


Beauty in the Broken

by ICarryYourHeart



Category: The Brave (TV 2017)
Genre: Action, Drama, F/M, Humor, Romance, Slow Burn, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-03-21 13:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13741584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ICarryYourHeart/pseuds/ICarryYourHeart
Summary: Hoffman is dead, but his carefully crafted plans to take down his country and the woman responsible for his downfall live on. Dalton and Jaz do their best to push away feelings that have become complicated, but when something is inevitable, it doesn't matter how hard you push.Ch 5 up: He was still beside her for a long time before he reached for the hand by her side. For the smallest of seconds his fingers squeezed, and the pad of his thumb brushed the top of her hand before he let go. It was a soothing gesture. It said I understand, I know.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I was very intrigued with the idea that Hoffman is the dark mirror of Dalton's character.

    He’d been watching them before they were even aware he was their intended target. They were easy enough to spot, despite the care they took to remain unassuming. That was his advantage, getting to observe them before they would even know to get their guard up. He remained calm as he trotted down the stairs, and wasn’t surprised when first Captain Dalton, and then Sergeant Khan glanced at him as he passed, deciding his threat level with a quick sweep. He was careful not to arouse their suspicions. Hoffman saw his exit and almost reached it, when the team of three closed off the exit. He thought of just waving to P in one of their collar cams, but decided against it, better to test her, she always did love a challenge. 

Patricia was sharp. All it took was a few words for her to recognize his voice. Hoffman smiled. It really was beautiful how the pieces were falling together. Poetry in motion. Hoffman felt his excitement rise as he was blindfolded and loaded in a van back to their home base. The tension in the car was palpable as they tried to figure out who the hell he was and why their superior had suddenly demanded he be kept prisoner. Hoffman leaned back luxuriously. The time was soon approaching when he could look into Patricia's eyes a she met her end. 

* * *

 

Hoffman looked on quietly as the team moved about the quonset hut. The woman intrigued him, as women usually did. She was a firecracker. Tough exterior with a fire in her belly. She wasn’t too easy to crack. She didn’t act like she had anything to prove, most likely she’d already proven it a thousand times and knew it. He almost didn’t know what he would use to get under her skin until a pattern started revealing itself. The sniper spent just enough time by her leader’s side to raise his suspicion. Hoffman gazed at the two intently. They hadn’t slept together, that much was obvious, but there was definitely something there. 

Dalton was a difficult read, but Hoffman knew the look of a man consumed with a woman, hadn’t he looked at himself enough over the years to memorize the symptoms? 

There were the glances. Quick, and to the untrained eye, nothing of note, but Hoffman had made a study of reading people. Dalton was laser focused on his task until Jasmine walked by, and then his eyes would flick to her passing form and back to his task again. It would have meant nothing if he had also glanced up anytime one of the others passed, but they didn’t seem to have the same effect. 

His next clue came when he spotted the obvious frustration on Dalton’s face, and the way it eased when the woman hopped up onto the desk where he worked and began lazily tossing an unarmed grenade. They exchanged looks every once in a while, and they were full of the kind of meaning only those who were closely bonded could share. He was frustrated with the inaction Patricia had forced on him, and she was there as a support, her glances reassuring and full of trust that he would handle it. It seemed to bolster him. Hoffman shook his head. He’d made the same mistake too. He’d lived for the moments when Patricia’s eyes would gleam with pride when he’d gained invaluable information, or ended a person responsible for the death of hundreds. When he’d felt like he’d become the monster, all he needed was Patricia’s presence to make him feel like the hero again. 

Any doubts Hoffman had about the complicated emotions between the two was erased when he made the little boyfriend jab. He’d aimed it at Jaz, and had been doubly pleased when it managed to stick two targets. Jaz’s quick, irritated response had told him exactly what he’d needed to know. Dalton’s response told him more. His feelings for Jaz were deep and complicated, and fully compartmentalized. He probably had some stupid reason for it, duty, honor, most likely it was to protect Jaz above all, because the woman always got the blame if feelings formed in a combat unit. But Hoffman knew better than anyone that suppressed desires became an ever growing weakness. He wanted to push that tender spot, make the man in front of him writhe, but Patricia walked in, and all his focus shifted to the object of a 12 year obsession. 

* * *

 

He gave them just enough to make them think Patricia had some sort of influence on him. She had once, but he was long beyond the weakness that had made him so vulnerable to her. As they planned a ruse to trap his man his eyes drifted to Patricia. She kept a wary eye on him and he shrugged as if to say,  _ yeah I can make the moral choice sometimes. _

Jaz walked out in outfit designed to make a man think of sin, and Hoffman’s eyes flicked immediately to Dalton, who was still unaware of her presence. McGuire stepped out of their living quarters and nodded to Jaz 

“Nice” 

She rolled her eyes, but her lip twitched. 

Dalton glanced their way and Hoffman had to give the guy credit. He spent all of a millisecond looking like he got hit by a two by four before he nodded at them to go ahead. There was one more quick glance Jaz’s way before he turned back to Preach at the computer. 

* * *

 

      From what he’d managed to piece together, from reports and medical, Jaz had come out of her incident in Tehran mostly unscathed. She’d been back on duty within two weeks, a hell of a quick turnaround for someone who’d been tortured for over 24 hours. She was tough. That was easy enough to see, but there were always cracks, ones that went unnoticed until they became crevices.  It spoke volumes of Dalton’s trust and confidence in Jaz that he left her alone with him. Hoffman was somewhat surprised, but mostly impressed. As soft as Dalton was, he didn’t become the legendary military leader he was by protecting people’s feelings. If he’d left Jaz to watch over him, that meant he trusted she wasn’t vulnerable to his constant barbs. Hoffman smiled to himself. She probably wasn’t, but he could definitely use her to get to Dalton.

Hoffman watched Jaz. She had been cleaning the guns in storage for the past thirty minutes as a way to pass the time. He’d tried a few barbs here and there, but she’d mostly ignored him, her focus on the weapons she held in her hands. She exhibited the precise control her position as team sniper demanded. No matter how many soft points he tried to press, she remained at ease, cleaning the weapons almost as if the action soothed her. 

“Do you think they only keep you around to fill some sort of quota? The media has made such a stink about women in comba-” despite himself, Hoffman stiffened slightly when Jaz calmly leveled a sniper rifle in his direction. She adjusted the scope slightly, polishing it with a cloth, as if her only intention had been to clean it, but a cocky smile crossed her lips.  

Hoffman smirked. Hell, even he wasn’t immune to the force of that gaze behind a gun pointed at his heart.  They both glanced in Dalton’s direction as he entered, and Hoffman pinned her with a knowing look.  

“Don’t worry, he feels the same way” 

Jaz let out a snort. 

“Oh really? Wow, I can’t wait to write about it in my journal”

“Probably why he picks you to work with him more often than not, gives him an excuse to be near you.” 

She rolled her eyes and walked casually up to the cage. 

“You think you’re the first man to tell me I only got picked because I’m a woman?” 

Pleased with her, he opened his mouth to retort, only to be interrupted. 

“Jaz,” Dalton signaled her with a look, and she immediately stepped back. 

“We had quite the conversation while you were gone. She is quite a woman. I understand why you put a bullet in a man’s leg for her. Might have done worse if the situation called for it” Hoffman said viciously, and enjoyed the way Jaz’s eyes widened slightly and snapped to Dalton. 

Dalton did an admirable job of staying unfazed, but Hoffman saw the fissures forming as dark shame shadowed his eyes. 

“Oh I’m sorry, did you not know?” He asked innocently, gazing past Dalton to Jaz, whose features darkened with stormy anger. He watched her stalk off before he turned a smug grin back to Dalton. 

“It’s better she knows now, the kind of monster you can be.” 

Dalton’s face was unreadable as he stared at him. 

“It’s not a criticism you know. I salute you, anything to get the job done.” 

Preach stepped over and tied the gag around his mouth again and Hoffman knew he’d hit a nerve. He’d tried to play the hero too, and look where it had gotten him. A kill order from his country, with the woman he loved pressing the trigger. He looked across the room at Patricia, who had been ignoring him as some sort of tactical move. Some of that bitter anger threatened to explode out of him, but he pulled back on it, focusing on the bomb that lay mere feet away. He would get his vengeance. 

Dalton strode out of the room and Hoffman knew where he was going. Once upon a time it had been important to him that Patricia only see the good in him too. 

* * *

 

Jaz stood outside keeping watch as the sun set. When someone stepped through the entryway of the Quonset hut she didn’t look their way. She knew it was Dalton. He stood quietly for a moment before letting out a tired sigh. 

“I should have told you.” He said finally, shaking his head. 

“I didn’t need to be briefed on that aspect of the mission. There is no tactical advantage gained by-”   
“But I should have told you,” Dalton interrupted, stepping in front of her so she had to look at him. 

Anger burned in her at the guilt on his face. She hated the way Hoffman had managed to get his claws into them.

“I was ashamed,” he said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Because I wasn’t thinking tactically. I was willing to get information no matter the cost.” 

“I wasn’t thinking tactically when I killed Arthur. It was blind rage. You know what was in my mind the entire time I strangled Arthur? Revenge. Revenge for making me think you were dead, for making me think my team was captured.” She was trembling with anger now “for…” she couldn’t finish the phrase. “Do you think that makes me a bad person?” She challenged

“Of course it doesn’t” Dalton said 

“Then you have no reason to feel ashamed” Jaz said matter-of-factly.  

Dalton sighed and looked out at the darkening sky. 

“I can’t help but think that the longer we sit here without putting that guy in a cell, the closer we get to a hell of a lot of trouble.” 

“We’ve got our guy, thanks to my least favorite undercover op by the way, now we just have to wait for him to lead us back to Verina” 

Dalton grinned at her 

“I think I was kind of a fan of Stacy.” 

Jaz gave him a withering stare. 

“Honey trap worked,” Preach said, popping his head out and holding up a tablet with a blinking signal light. 

Jaz rolled her eyes. The guys were much too amused with her in the honey trap role, and she had a feeling it would be brought up to exhaustion before they were willing to let it go. 

“What do you say we go scope out a compound,” Dalton said, nudging her shoulder with his.


	2. Darkness has Come

_ “I did my best to tame _

_ The beast that cries my name _

_ Flicker into a flame _

_ Into a raging fire _

_ I can't contain” _

* * *

**1600 Hours**

    The first indication that something was wrong came when Dalton couldn’t reach Preach or Patricia on the coms. Something in his gut felt off, and concern only grew when Jaz, with her sharp eyes, noticed smoke coming from the direction of the quonset hut. Dalton gunned the engine and the car fell deathly silent. They were met with the sound of emergency sirens and MP’s who yelled at them to stay back until Dalton identified himself. He ran towards the two med vehicles, fear coating his throat as he spied Patricia, still and bloody on a stretcher. The hustle of the medics told him she still lived. He ran inside with Jaz, Amir and McG on his heels, but just as he suspected, Hoffman was long gone. Preach was being loaded onto a stretcher while a medic held a BVM to Preach’s mouth, squeezing rhythmically. He tried not to stare at his friend’s lifeless body as he stood silently in the destroyed living area. McG was already interrogating the medics, his face white with shock. Amir and Jaz stood back slightly, eyes on Preach as he was carried past them. For a moment Dalton felt nothing, just emptiness as the sound of sirens wailed through the air. 

Then slowly, as if unearthing from a deep well of pain, rage built inside of him, until his focus narrowed only to retribution. 

“McG, Jaz, Amir, tail the med vans. I want security detail on both of them the moment they enter that hospital.” Dalton said, his voice flat and emotionless.

“Dalton we’ve got reports of an explosion at the Quonset hut. I can’t reach Patricia,” Noah’s panicked voice came suddenly over the coms. 

“Hoffman had a bomb. McG’s lead, he’ll update you as we get more information.” Dalton said, not noticing Jaz stop to look at him.

“McG.” 

“Copy boss, I’ll take comms lead.” McG said as he left with Amir.

Dalton yanked his coms and set them in a neat pile, followed by both phones. 

“I can provide support.” Jaz said from behind him. 

“I need you at the hospital.” 

“Top, I-”   
“That’s an order,” he snapped, checking the clip on his pistol. He didn’t look at her, but he knew her eyes were on the desk where his coms lay. His focus remained entirely on the red stained floor and the burning blackness inside his chest. Jaz remained, and he could sense her trying to find a way to talk to him. 

Enough of him remained that he knew he never wanted Jaz to see this side of him.  

“Sergeant Khan, that is a direct order” he said, his voice hard. 

* * *

**0400 Hours**

    It had been hours since they’d heard from Dalton. Jaz stood, sick with worry and grief as she hung up the phone. Preach’s wife had taken the news as bravely as anyone in her position could. Jaz could hear her order her daughters to their rooms to pack their things as she calmly asked Jaz for as much information as she could provide. Amelia’s voice shook with fear, but she’d remained strong, most likely for her children’s benefit. Trying to give herself a moment, Jaz walked up to the admit station to sign for Preach’s things. 

They’d placed them in a bin and she cataloged the items neatly, placing them in a canvas hospital bag. Assuming that Preach’s sidearm had been placed in secure storage, she flagged down a nurse. 

“Was there a sidearm brought in with Chief Petty Officer Carter?” 

“No ma’am,” the nurse said, checking over the sheet “all items brought in were logged and placed in this bin. 

Jaz frowned, and cold fear began to seep into her chest. She rushed back to Preach’s room. 

“Preach didn’t have his sidearm on him when he was brought in.”

“What are you talking about?” Amir asked

“When Preach was brought in, I just checked with admitting, he did not have his sidearm on him. Did you see it?” 

Amir glanced back at Preach and then at Jaz. His face held the same fear as hers. 

“Hoffman is armed” Amir said slowly. 

Jaz shook her head and leaned back against the doorjamb. 

“Top doesn’t know,” she said softly

Amir stared at the wall, saying nothing. 

She should have stayed with him, was all she could think. But she’d listened to that damn voice that had warned her what had happened the last time she’d disobeyed an order. So she’d left him. 

* * *

**0700 Hours**

Jaz sat curled up in a chair in Preach’s room with Amir, both of them silent. Anxiety kept her paralyzed as she stared blankly at the wall. It had been a long time since she’d felt this way. It had been over ten hours since Dalton had disappeared, and three hours since she’d found out Preach’s weapon was missing. She’d breached the line of command slightly by contacting Noah in an attempt to locate Dalton, but it hadn’t amounted to anything. He’d disappeared completely. Her anxiety increased as she wondered if he would even make it back. Something had been so off about him when he’d ordered her away. 

Dalton trusted his team. He never went off by himself, because he knew that as a unit they were more effective. So this disappearing act concerned her. His eyes had been cold with rage, and though his rage didn’t scare her, what he would risk on account of that rage did. 

Because her fears were making her restless, Jaz stood.

“I’m gonna go grab us coffee,” she said, and Amir nodded, his eyes on Preach. 

Tears filled her eyes as she walked down the quiet halls. She felt lost in her inaction. There was the sound of footsteps, and Jaz looked up to see a lone figure in black moving slowly towards her. Relief washed over her and she knuckled back the tears that threatened to spill, waiting until Dalton reached her. His face was expressionless, but calm, and he clutched a silver chain in his hand. This time his eyes met hers and he nodded at her before passing her to go to Patricia’s room. Her hand shot out and grabbed onto his upper arm and he stilled, glancing back at her. Though the fierce rage was gone from his face, the calm  façade shuttered over his eyes wasn’t real. Something was different about his gaze. At a loss for words, Jaz dropped her arm and he stepped away. She knew he’d done what he’d needed to do, and she also knew that it was haunting him, the action he’d needed to take to keep Patricia safe.

Jaz headed back into Preach’s room, abandoning her quest for coffee. 

“Top is back.” She said, and Amir stood, looking relieved. 

* * *

**1300 Hours**

Preach lay surrounded by family. Two daughters and a wife, and four team members who would trade places with him in an instant. If the force of love could wake a man that far gone, he would have been holding his three daughters in his arms, while his wife met his eyes and promised forever and then some. Instead, those daughters stood silently beside still arms, while the wife’s eyes shone with sorrow instead of joy. 

Their deployment had ended 6 days ago. They all missed their flights back home. No one could bear to leave Preach’s bedside while his fate hung in the air. 

Within days of the explosion, word had spread to the rest of the base. The damage to the quonset hut had been cleaned up and repaired by a group of servicemen, an act that proved military was family, no matter what unit you were in. The team took to staying at the hospital in shifts so that Preach would never have to be alone. They developed a little routine that, though edged with sadness, kept everyone just busy enough for hope to continue thriving.

* * *

 

Amir stared at Preach’s daughters circled around their small dining table, bent over books. The heartbreak on their faces struck a chord in him reserved for another young girl who had never gotten the chance to grow up. Determined to bring them a little cheer, he crossed to the kitchen and began pulling out ingredients, noticing the way Grace, Preach’s youngest, followed his movements. 

“Does anyone know how to make cupcakes?”    
“I do!” Grace piped up immediately. “I want to be a pastry chef,” she added importantly. 

“Really?” Amir said, although this information was nothing new to him. “Think you could help me whip some up?” 

Grace leapt out of her chair and stood eagerly beside Amir, taking the measuring cup he handed her.  

“Can I help too?” Ruth asked 

“I think you better,” Amir said seriously, and glanced at Allie 

“Allie, would you like to bake with us?” 

Allie didn’t look up from her work. 

“I have to finish my homework,” she said softly. 

Amir nodded, granting her the space, and turned to the two younger sisters. 

“Okay, who knows a cupcake recipe?” 

“I watch Cupcake Wars, they always add eggs, flour, and sugar.”    
“That’s a good start,” Amir said, and he pulled out some of the homemade vanilla extract that he’d been saving in a jar. 

The girls set to their tasks with focused energy, and he directed them, but barely, as they combined ingredients. They giggled as flour spilled and an egg cracked on the floor. Amir watched them and a gentle smile crossed his face. He didn’t fail to notice how Allie’s eyes moved from her homework to her sisters. Amir waited, knowing she would join when she was ready. 

* * *

 

Hannah stepped into the quonset hut and was slightly surprised to hear laughter. She stopped by the weapons cage and watched Amir bending over a bowl while one of Preach’s daughters instructed him how to stir. He began stirring erratically and Grace collapsed into giggles while grabbing onto his arm. 

“No not like that.”    
“Oh I thought I needed to go fast,” Amir said, resuming the spastic stirring and laughing with the girls when flour puffed up and coated his shirt. 

Hannah smiled at the interaction, and felt a slow swoop in her belly as she watched him. His eyes snapped up suddenly and found hers, and she felt the smallest flutter of nerves at his gaze. A little unsettled by her reaction,  Hannah stepped into the kitchen, peering at the flour spills and eggshells littering the kitchen. 

“What are we making here?” she asked playfully. 

“Cupcakes” Ruth said, pointing to two badly dented muffin pans. “But we don’t have wrappers so they’re going to be natural.” 

“Wrappers just get in the way anyway” Hannah said, turning slightly to glance at Amir, who was smiling warmly down at the girls. 

“We’re gonna need a steady hand to pour these,” Amir said, handing her a spoon. 

Hannah shrugged. 

“I think I can pull that off” 

They formed a domestic scene, huddled in the kitchen pouring dough, and Hannah felt herself easing into the space a little more comfortably than she would have expected. Amir surprised her. Around the girls he was filled with humor and easy smiles, nothing like the quiet, sometimes serious man she’d come to know over these past months. She felt almost as if she had a small glimpse of who he was before his life had taken such a dark turn. The duality of him intrigued her. 

“Okay, let’s hit those books while these bake.” Amir said, easing the muffin pans into the oven. The girls protested, but Amir merely shrugged. 

“Well if you don’t want to do that then I guess you can help clean this mess up,” he said, gesturing to the partially destroyed kitchen. 

The girls hurried to their books and Hannah laughed, stepping in beside Amir to wipe flour from the counters. 

“Oh you don’t have to do that,” Amir said, reaching to take the cloth from her. 

“I want to,” Hannah said simply, and moved away from him to wet the cloth. He watched her, warm brown eyes pulling in details, and she glanced down, not sure that she wanted him learning all her secrets. 

“It’s kind of you, distracting them like that.” Hannah said in a low voice. 

Amir shrugged and began rinsing bowls. 

“It’s the least I could do for him, give his girls some happiness while we wait for him to wake up.” 

Hannah felt her eyes sting with tears and she focused on wiping flour from the counter. 

“How is Director Campbell?” He asked, his eyes on her. 

Hannah smiled. 

“Well she’s on mandatory bed rest for three more days, so you know, she’s pacing the room and trying to pry details out of Noah back in D.C.” 

Amir laughed, and set the bowl on the rack to dry. 

“We should have seen the bomb,” Hannah said suddenly, voicing the guilt that had been churning in her.  “We were so focused on the sub that…” Hannah trailed off as a warm hand closed over hers. 

“We were in the same room, and we didn’t see what he was doing. This was no one’s fault.” 

Hannah swallowed past the ache in her throat and looked up at Amir. There was a sadness in his eyes that pulled at her. She felt at once completely connected to him, and completely terrified at the implications of that. Hannah stepped away, unsure of the unsteady emotions, and almost sighed with relief when voices sounded at the door. 

“Oh what smells like heaven?” McG boomed, letting out a slow grin as he spotted  Hannah. “Hey,” he said slowly, his grin oozing charm. 

Hannah smiled back. This she could handle, the country boy charm rolling off him in waves, the harmless flirtation. Jaz walked in behind McG and rolled her eyes, meeting Hannah’s eyes with a smirk. 

“He showers with his shoes on,” Jaz said, breezing by to grab an apple from the counter. 

Hannah bit back a smile as McG sighed. 

“You’re the worst kind of wingwoman” 

Jaz shrugged. “Payback” 

“The last time McG tried scoring Jaz a date he accidentally scored himself one.” Amir supplied, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Look, it wasn’t my fault he was into someone a little more rugged. Although if he could see you after a few days in the field he might have changed his mind” McG said, easily dodging the half-hearted swipe Jaz aimed at him.  

* * *

 

Amir chuckled as Jaz waved McG off and headed towards her rack. His eyes slid over to Hannah again, a new little habit he’d developed ever since Hannah had first joined them for a field assignment, and one that seemed to have continued when she’d flown into Turkey to assist Director Campbell with her duties as she recovered. He was slightly embarrassed to admit he might have a crush on her. It felt foolish, and impractical, and he was rather thankful that McG was currently engaging her in conversation. 

The timer sounded, and he turned to remove cupcakes from the oven to set them cooling on a rack. 

“I could help decorate,” a quiet voice said beside him, and Amir turned to see Allie. He smiled, and handed her a bowl. This one, with her quiet gentle nature, reminded him fiercely of the sister he’d lost. 

“Can we make chocolate, that’s dad’s favorite.” 

“Sure,” Amir said, pulling cocoa powder from the shelf. 

“Do you think he’ll wake up in time to have some?” Allie asked, eyes pooling with tears. Amir paused, unsure how to answer. 

“I sure hope so,” he said finally, and Allie nodded, sniffling. 

“We could freeze some. That’s what mom does everytime we have one of dad’s favorite things. Then he can have it when he comes back” 

Amir smiled, remembering the family tradition Preach spoke so fondly of. 

“Is that the annual Carter end of deployment feast?” 

Allie laughed. 

“Yeah, and everytime dad eats too much and he says he’ll never eat again, but then two hours later he’s having seconds” 

Amir smiled.    
“Well then let’s make sure we save enough for seconds” 

* * *

 

     Soft crying stirred Jaz from sleep. She rolled over to try and determine where the sound was coming from. Worried it was one of the girls, she slid silently off the recliner she’d curled up on for the night, and padded down the hall. There was silence for a long moment before she heard muffled sobs coming from Preach’s room where Amelia slept. Her heart, already in pieces because her teammate lay broken in a hospital room, ached for the woman who loved him. She turned back and nearly bumped into Dalton, who stared past her at Preach’s door.  

“I hate this,” Jaz murmured 

“Me too,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with grief. 

Moonlight slanted over his face and Jaz noticed it was carved with a weariness that had nothing to do with interrupted sleep. She opened her mouth to say something, but he was already heading back to the living area where they’d been racking out while  Amir bunked with McG so Preach’s family had a place to sleep. Worry for Dalton caused her brow to crease. There was an edge to him that hadn’t gone away since Preach and Patricia had been attacked. He remained mostly quiet, disappearing for long hours without a word to anyone, coming back sometimes with bruised and bloodied knuckles. 

Jaz returned to the recliner and eased herself onto it. She turned to look at Dalton, who lay on his back with his eyes closed. He wasn’t sleeping, and she watched him, waiting to see if he would talk to her like he usually did. 

“What?” He said finally, opening his eyes to stare up at the ceiling. 

“When are you going to stop blaming yourself?” 

Dalton remained silent for a full minute before he got up, brushing a hand across her shoulder as he passed. 

“Get some rest,” he said, before disappearing out the door. 

Jaz stared at the empty couch, wishing she was as good with words as Preach, who would have pulled Dalton out of his pain with patient persistence. 

* * *

 

    Dalton sat with Preach when his heart stopped. Jaz was walking back from the cafeteria with Amelia when she saw him, face desolate, while a team of doctors and nurses tried to pull Preach back from death’s grip. Amelia dropped the cup of coffee and ran to the room, only to be held back by Dalton as the doctors struggled to get Preach’s heart working. Her sobs tore through the air and right into Jaz’s heart as she stood watching. McG and Amir came rushing in at the sounds, and Amir turned back just in time to keep Preach’s daughters from witnessing the scene. 

McG stood with Jaz and stared into the room. His eyes were rimmed with red and he was shaking his head angrily. 

“It’s not right, he shouldn’t be in that bed.” 

Jaz nodded, blinking back tears. 

The sound of a heartbeat had never been so welcome. Dalton released a weeping Amelia and sunk to the floor, his head in his hands as Amelia clung to her husband. McG signaled for Amir to bring Allie, Ruth, and Grace out, and the girls emerged with tear stained faces. As Jaz stood watching the still form of a man she loved like a brother, all she could think was that the reality of loss was far more painful than the fear of it. She turned for a moment as tears welled in her eyes, wishing to keep her grief private, but her eyes landed on Dalton, still sitting on the floor. Concern had her crouching beside him. 

His face was ravaged with guilt and grief as a sobbing Amelia begged her husband to wake

“Let’s take a walk,” Jaz said, and when Dalton didn’t move she wrapped her fingers around his forearm and led him outside, where she hoped air not scented with disinfectant would help ease his shock. 

They said nothing, just stood while the air around them cooled and the sun streaked the sky with color in its descent. It was quiet here, and Preach would probably have said something inspired right now, just corny enough to make them groan. The thought filled her with a piercing sadness. 

“He’s gonna make it,” Jaz said finally, so quietly she didn’t think he’d heard her until his gaze turned to hers. The depth of his pain reached out and grabbed her by the throat. It was so rare he didn’t have that wall of control up. 

“I can’t lose someone else” he said finally, and Jaz placed a hand on his forearm, aching for him. 

“I executed him.” Dalton said, and the look on his face told Jaz that though he had acted in vengeance, he hadn’t wanted to be the man who did it. 

Jaz swallowed hard, and when Dalton leaned back with his head against the wall she acted on instinct, and wrapped her arms around him. He let out a harsh breath before his arms came around her, and his head fell to her shoulder. Tears wet her own face as she clung harder. 

* * *

 

He wanted a moment, just a moment to lose himself in her. Her arms were tight bands around him, keeping him from shattering apart. The anger and grief he’d been feeling for the past two weeks eased, so slightly at first, he was barely aware of it until suddenly it wasn’t as hard to breathe. He breathed in the scent of her, shampoo and faint traces of gunpowder, and his arms tightened around her briefly before he released her. He built back his control, piece by piece, and when her eyes met his he wanted nothing more than to run his fingers along her temple and into her hair, but he kept his hand fisted by his side. 

“If you hadn’t done what you did, Hoffman would have found a way to ruin Patricia, and done a hell of a lot more damage.” Jaz said, and the way she looked at him, he could almost believe that the darkness fighting inside of him wasn’t there at all. 

* * *

 

_Preach was trapped in a dark place with muffled sound. He felt the presence of those around him, and when he felt his wife’s touch for the first time in over eight months he felt a joy so pure his eyes almost opened. The darkness was too heavy though, and it pressed on him each day to let go and stop the fight that seemed to be determined to end him. He clung to faith, and the sounds of the people he loved, and lay beneath the pressing weight pushing onward. He became weak often, and once, tempted by the promise of what lay beyond that oppressive darkness, he let go. All that was important to him had been steadily fading in this darkness, until he barely knew he existed._

It was his wife’s screams that brought him back. He hated himself for the selfishness that almost left his wife and children alone in this world. The day his heart stopped was also the day he began the climb back into consciousness. They removed the ventilator three days later, and somehow, the act of drawing his own breath brought him closer to leaving the darkness than ever. 

 

Preach woke on an unusually sunny day for the generally gloomy month of February. The room was silent, save for the steady beeping of a heart monitor. The first thing he saw was his wife curled up beside him in a chair, exhaustion clear on her face. She was still the most beautiful person he’d ever laid eyes on. He found the strength to brush a hand along her cheek. Amelia stirred and shrieked when she saw him awake. Then she was crying into his shoulder, and he’d never heard her so heartbroken. 

“I’m sorry baby,” he said, brushing a kiss across her hair. 

He looked up to see Jaz walking to his room, concern etched on her face as she looked at his wife. It took her two whole seconds to look up and notice he was awake. Her face lit up and she dashed forward, only to halt awkwardly at the sight of the intimate moment. She grinned at him before backing up to give him and Amelia a private moment.  It wasn’t ten minutes before his daughters were rushing into the room, and he saw his team standing outside in the hallway, wide grins on their faces.    
“Get in here!” Amelia exclaimed, and then his team was surrounding him. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Dalton said warmly, grasping his hand, and although his face was lit up, Preach noticed the strain and weariness in his eyes. 

“It’s good to be back,” Preach said, his voice hoarse from lack of use. 

* * *

Deployments started and ended the same, with painful goodbyes first to those you left behind at home, and then to those you left behind to go back home. 

Despite the often grueling schedule of a deployment, Dalton usually counted the days until he would return. This time though, he looked forward to stepping away from the heaviness. The bombing on the beach, Tehran, Hoffman. Part of him thought that all it would take was one more moment, one small push, to drive him down a path he’d always feared he was destined for. For the first time in his life he wanted something  _ more _ .  He was tired of going home to an empty house void of familiar voices. Going home meant facing his broken family, fearing each time that he would return as his father, and not the son who walked away.

He heard the familiar rhythm of Jaz’s footsteps as she approached and turned. He found himself smiling at the bright happiness on her face. His team’s spirits would be high when they returned home.

“Director Campbell arranged for transport to Fort Hunter. They’ll get base housing for now, and the girls can get back to school” Jaz said.

“Good. They need stability.”

Jaz nodded, and he felt her eyes on him. 

“I heard you’re staying with them for a bit.”

“Yeah, I’ll help out until Preach is back on his feet, or they kick me out,” he added with a grin. 

She nodded and stuck her hands in her pockets, glancing back at Preach’s daughters as they pranced around their father who was being wheeled out of his room. 

Maybe it was the image of Preach’s family gathered around him, or maybe it was because of the woman who stood next to him, but for the briefest of moments he wondered how it would be to come home to a family of his own. In a world where darkness didn’t have its grip on him, he wondered if he would look forward to coming home to a wife, children. The fantasy sat for a moment in his head, but the wife had dark hair and the children had familiar eyes, and that wasn’t something he would even give himself a moment to fantasize about. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties with where Preach lives, and the names of his wife and daughters. If someone knows the actual names, please correct me! 
> 
> Quote from MILCK's "Call of the Wild". Excellent artist, give her a listen.


	3. Inevitable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you to each and every person who has taken the time to leave a comment. I appreciate you! Second, sorry for the long wait between last chapter and this one. Hopefully updates will come a little more regularly now :). 
> 
> Just in case there is any doubt, Jalton is endgame, they just have their own stubborn way of getting there, and yes, Jason is pretty much just here as a plot device, but I hope you all enjoy it.

It took over thirty hours of flying and airport waiting until Jaz stumbled through the door of her modest apartment. She’d chosen to stay on base at Fort Drum, because finding a civilian owned apartment that would lease a place for a mere three to five months between deployments  was nearly impossible in New York. As exhausted as she was, the sudden silence of a completely empty living space made her twitchy. Jaz lugged her two duffels and her go bag into her bedroom and tossed them onto the floor, deciding to unpack while her mind cleared.

She’d gotten used to needing a few days to settle each time she came back from a deployment. Usually that meant a few days of solitary relaxation before she would contact friends and head out again. She pulled out one of her standard issue desert tan shirts out of her A bag and glanced curiously at it. It was about three sizes too big to be hers. Since it wasn’t uncommon for gear to get mixed up during missions, and she hadn’t exactly packed so much as grabbed whatever had been lying around, she wasn’t surprised.

Jaz was about to check the tag for initials when she suddenly knew exactly who the shirt belonged to. The warm woodsy smell of him drifted faintly from the fabric, and caused a pang right under her heart. Jaz sat on her bed, staring at the shirt in her hands.

On deployment, even with the slightly different way the omega team operated, her life was ordered in a series of neat regulations and schedules. It kept her from “wilding out” as her army recruiter used to say. Now in the quiet of her apartment, she sat with endless space and possibility. Memories filled her mind, and with them, the complicated feelings that had been steadily developing.  

 

_Elijah’s death had hit her hard. He was the first person she’d loved like a brother, and his loss had been so devastatingly quick she hadn’t even been able to properly grieve until a week later when she was suddenly bent over and sobbing on an impromptu run._

_She was sitting in the dirt under a tree when Dalton found her. Her tears had long since dried, and she’d succumbed to the numbness the distraught often retreated to as a defense mechanism. He didn’t say anything, just sat beside her and offered her a bottle of water._

_Jaz didn’t move a muscle, and after a while the cool water bottle was nudging against the back of her hand. She’d looked at him then, wondering if he thought she couldn’t handle herself, or wasn’t strong enough to deal with one of the tragic but inevitable results of the duty they chose. Instead, she saw his eyes were rimmed with red, and he carried grief openly on his face. It shocked Jaz enough to close her hand over the water bottle._

_“I made the funeral arrangements today. We’ll all rotate home in a week or so, meet with his family first. They want us to stay with them for the funeral.”_

_Jaz sat quietly as he talked, his steady presence a small balm to the raging grief inside of her._

_“I wish…” the words spilled out of her before she could stop them._

_“Talk to me,” he said, and his voice was gentle in a way that had her spilling out the thoughts that had lodged in her heart the moment her best friend bled out in her arms._

_“I wish I’d done better, listened harder, walked through that door first. He has a whole family, a whole life. He didn’t deserve to be the one that-“ but she wasn’t ready to say died. It felt like too small a word for the vast chasm he’d left in his absence._

_“He would never have wanted you to live with those regrets” Dalton said, and his gaze was steady and sure on hers._

 

It was the first block of trust they built between them that day on a dusty road on an airbase in Incirlik.

 

Jaz didn’t realize it until much later, but he’d somehow found a way to be close to her those last two weeks. Elijah had been a near constant companion, and the loss of a presence that boisterous was aching. But somehow she wasn’t completely alone. If she was training on the boxing bag, Dalton was filling paperwork out at his desk a few feet away. If she was cleaning her gun for the millionth time that week, he was taking inventory of the tac gear one cage over. He didn’t force her to talk, he was just there, a presence that pulled her back from the temptation to get lost in herself.

Their last day there she joined him on his morning run.

 

_He kept a brutal pace, and they returned to the quonset hut out of breath and coated in sweat._

_“You should work on your mile time” he wheezed out, his face a serious mask._

_Jaz let out a huff of laughter._

_“Really? Cause you look like you could use an oxygen tank”  The snappy retort spilled out of her before she could stop it, and she eyed him warily, wondering if she’d gone too far._

_Dalton’s laughter eased the tension in her shoulders._

_“I was trying to push you, but I think that backfired on me.”_

Later Jaz would remember that was the first time she’d laughed again.

She looked at the shirt in her hand for a moment before pulling off her tank and slipping his shirt over her head. Jaz would have been mortified if anyone had caught her, but in the privacy of her own place she allowed herself to breathe in the scent she’d come to associate so strongly with safety and happiness. It pulled up memories of long conversations under starry skies, badly timed jokes at horribly inappropriate moments, and arms holding her steady when she’d been pulled out of a van she’d feared was taking her to her death.

If she closed her eyes she could almost be transported back to the early mornings or late nights when it was just her and Dalton. She could picture perfectly the way the changing light played with the angles of his face, or how his eyes would crinkle at the sides when he smiled. Jaz felt a smile curve her own lips as she thought of the last good morning they’d had, before their deployment had turned into the shit-storm of a fiasco it had in the last three months.

_Dalton stood outside watching the sky color with light while Patton bounded around like a madman chasing birds. Jaz joined him silently, and grinned when he startled slightly._

_“Sorry,” she murmured_

_“No you’re not,”_

_“No I’m not,” she agreed, lifting her face to the rising sun._

_Patton burst out of a bush, sprinting after a few quails he’d managed to root out. Dalton chuckled, watching the dog streak across the ground._

_“He’s a damn menace” he said,_

_Patton yipped suddenly and came hurtling back towards them, tail tucked between his legs, as a magpie he’d startled decided to fight back instead of fly off._

_Dalton’s laughter rang out over the field as he cradled a trembling dog in his arms. She’d never seen him laugh like that, without abandon, as if for one moment the steely control that dictated his every move had lifted. Something inside of her opened up, glowing warm and bright as she looked at him._

Even now, as Jaz thought back to the memory, that warmth filled her as she drifted off to sleep. In dreams, where rules didn’t dictate the path her heart could take, she stood outside with Adam and he trailed a hand along her cheek.

* * *

 

Dalton was back one week before his team was due to arrive. Jason Mancuso was set to land today to be vetted as a potential temporary replacement for Preach, who still had another three months of leave to fully recover from the blast injury to his lungs.

Dalton’s toughbook chimed and he opened the secure video channel to see Preach grinning at him.

“Bring in my replacement yet?”

Dalton shook his head.

“You’re a hell of a man to replace, but a stand in will have to do for now.”  
“Hey man, you gotta have a full team, I’ll be back to kick the new guy out soon enough” Preach said

“Yeah? How’s that smoker’s cough coming?”

“It’s gone, and I’ll have you know I beat your mile time by 36 seconds yesterday.”

“Oh yeah?” Dalton grinned “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“What you’ll see is the back of my head as I’m passing you” Preach retorted.

Dalton laughed.

“Say hi to Amelia and the girls.”

“Say hi yourself,” Preach said, and turned his screen to Amelia and the three girls.

Dalton spent several minutes being bombarded by questions before Amelia ordered them to return to their homework.

“You know all I hear every day is ‘when is Adam coming back daddy? Can we call Adam today daddy?’ and if they’re not asking about you they’re asking about Amir. The two of you spoiled them”

Dalton shrugged “What can I say, you were right about those doe eyes”

He heard a car pull up.

“You ready to meet our guy?”

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to haze someone.”

“Oh geez”

Dalton knew enough about Mancuso to know that he would be a decent fill in while they waited for Preach’s return, so he let Preach handle the skills interview portion of the vetting process.

They spent several minutes talking tech before Preach nodded to Dalton. They had their man.

* * *

 

Dalton walked out onto the tarmac to meet his team as they deplaned. McG and Amir where first out out of the airplane, followed closely by Jaz. That first glance of her crumbled every wall he’d tried to build up during their time apart. Longing gripped him for a moment, but he pushed back on it, willing the intrusive thoughts to disappear.

“Oh, it’s good to be back” McG groaned, breathing in the warm Turkey air and coughing slightly as dust was kicked up by a Blackhawk’s rotors.

Amir dusted off his shirt and swung his bag over his shoulder.

“The dirt covering everything I own I can do without.”

“The dirt’s an improvement,” McG said

Jaz laughed and placed a companionable hand on Amir’s shoulder.

“Don’t listen to him, he’s still jealous Hannah likes you more.”

Amir grinned at that while McG scoffed.

“Please, I didn’t even get a chance to turn on the charm. Besides, she thinks he’s short!”

“If all your self-worth is tied up in the measure of numbers, your life will hold nothing but emptiness.”

McG looked disgusted.

“Oh hell no, don’t start pulling that shit, Preach isn’t even here.”

“Well someone needs to keep you in line while he’s gone,” Amir argued.

Dalton glanced over at Jaz with a grin, and her answering smile warmed a part of him he hadn’t noticed had gone cold.

“It’s good to be back,” she said,

“It’s good to be back,” Dalton agreed.

Things had changed since Tehran, since Hoffman, and if he’d thought distance would change them back he was wrong.

“Heard we got a new guy” McG said, hefting his bags into the back of the Humvee.

“Yup,” Dalton said, and then eyed Jaz out of the corner of his eye. “Promise to play nice this time?”

“What? I’m always nice”

“You hated me for months after I got here!” Amir said indignantly.

“I did not hate you,” Jaz argued “I just really disliked you.”

McG chuckled and bumped Amir’s shoulder. “And look, now she tolerates you.”

Jaz snorted and slid into the passenger’s seat beside Dalton.

“What’s the new guy like?” she asked, and he wasn’t surprised to see the frown crease her brow.

“Preach approves, says the guy is a whiz with coms. He’ll make a great _temporary_  replacement” Dalton said, making sure to emphasize the word. 

“How long is temporary?”

“Officially, three months. Unofficially, whenever Preach is physically ready to return”

Jaz’s brow smoothed.

“Temporary I can live with.”

* * *

 

Mancuso was waiting on them when they returned to the Quonset hut, and Dalton made quick introductions, noting the way Mancuso’s eyes lingered on Jaz. It wasn’t uncommon for other servicemen to act strangely when they encountered a female soldier in an elite combat unit. There were the usual doubts or snide comments, sometimes a really cocky soldier would even attempt to flirt with her, as if all she was good for was looking at,  but he wasn’t too concerned. Jaz handled it. Usually by besting them in a shooting match or saving their ass under fire. Or filleting them with a few expertly crafted insults.

“Sargeant Jasmine Khan,” Dalton said, and Jaz stepped forward to shake Jason’s hand

“Whoa,” Jason said,

Jaz raised an eyebrow and glanced back at Dalton with annoyed look. She really hated the flirters.  

“Fort Benning Army Sniper School, you’re one of 10 soldiers to get 99.5 % first round hits at 600 meters.” Jason continued, grinning at her.

Jaz glanced back at Jason and considered him for a moment.

“You went to Fort Benning?”

“Yeah, and scraped by with a 90.1. Decided I was better with coms” he said with a crooked grin.

Jaz stepped back as Dalton introduced Amir and McG, and though she wasn’t exactly warmly welcoming the new guy, she wasn’t glaring either.

Conversation flowed naturally as the team made plans to celebrate their return with a visit to a local bar. 

Dalton stepped away slightly, giving them room to get to know each other without their CO breathing down their neck. He walked outside to find Patton, who had streaked out hours earlier on one of his wild jags.

Jaz fell into step beside him and he gave her shoulder a companionable bump.  

“Not joining them at the bar tonight?”

Jaz shrugged

“I try not to drink the night before PT,”

“Who said there’s gonna be PT?” Dalton asked innocently.

Jaz gave him a look.

“There’s _always_ PT after leave.”

Dalton grinned and whistled for Patton. There was no sign of him.

“Don’t know why I expected that to work,” he said sarcastically

“Patton!” Jaz called 

“Don’t bother, I still think the idiot doesn’t know his own na-” Dalton’s jaw dropped as Patton came hurtling towards Jaz.

Jaz gave him a cocky grin and reached down to stroke Patton, raining praises on him. 

“You have food don’t you?” Dalton said suspiciously.

“Nope, I’m just obviously the alpha in this relationship.”

Dalton narrowed his eyes and Jaz shifted slightly. Patton was sniffing at her pockets and nibbling slightly at her hands. Still she didn’t flinch. It was only when Patton started tugging at her pockets that she cracked and fed the dog the beef jerky she’d squirreled away in her jacket pocket.

“All right so maybe I used a few persuasive tactics” Jaz confessed, no sign of shame on her face as she stood.

In his enthusiasm for more beef jerky, Patton bounced up, knocking an unsuspecting Jaz into him. Dalton reached out instinctively, a hand coming to her waist to steady her. Her eyes flicked up to his and he snatched his hand back.

“Patton down!” Dalton said a little too firmly, and to his surprise, Patton sat promptly.

There was a frisson of something in the air.

“Look at that, he can actually listen” Jaz said, a slight pitch to her voice.

“Only took him about a year and a half” Dalton replied dryly.

Silence fell between them and Jaz chewed on her lip. He was too aware of her. It was making him tense. 

“Any news from the DIA?” she asked, her eyes on the dog.

“Nope” 

"Oh". 

He felt like he was at a middle school dance. 

"Probably won't be long until Patricia calls since we rotated back so late this time" He supplied. 

Jaz nodded and crossed her arms. The rest of the team spilled out of the Quonset hut, and McG waved her down.

“Jazzy! Beer! Top?”

Jaz considered briefly before shrugging.

“Hell if you can’t beat ‘em” she glanced back at him. “You coming?”

“Nah, I’ve got paperwork”

Jaz pursed her lips. “Want company?”

“Go,” Dalton said lightly, waving her off as she wavered.

He walked back to his desk with the single piece of paper on it, and leaned down to sign the final approval form for Mancuso before sliding it into his file.

“Done,” Dalton said to Patton, who’d curled up on the recliner where Jaz had slept the last few weeks of their previous deployment.

It had done something to him, waking each morning with Jaz mere feet from him. It had felt intimate, despite their distance, and it had taken him longer than he liked to adjust to waking up without the sound of her steady breathing in the mornings. He’d come to memorize the way she slept. One arm tucked under her pillow, hair tossed back and over her shoulder, and blanket almost always flung halfway off. He'd let his eyes travel over her more times than he cared to admit. 

He’d been steadily suspecting that his feelings for Jaz had surpassed the almost familial bond of their team and slipped into something else. The way he’d acted tonight had pretty much confirmed that theory. Dalton stared stonily at the wall. He had a responsibility to his team, to her. Crossing a line as big as this one would put everything she’d worked for at risk, and it would kill his credibility as team leader.  Unhappiness sat like a stone in his chest. He was no stranger to fighting back his desires, and this was no different. His team worked as a well oiled machine, and he wasn’t willing to let his own emotions throw a wrench in that. 

He should have known that willpower was no match against the inevitable. 

* * *

The team returned shortly after 2000, blaming their early return on jet lag. Insults about age and lack of stamina were thrown around and Dalton arched his brow in surprise to see Jaz laughing with Mancuso, who was ribbing McG. She didn't exactly let people in easily. Hell, it had taken her two years before she'd let her guard down around him. Sure part of it was because he was her CO, but part of it was because trust wasn't something she gave easily. She'd been very much a loner when she first came to his team, a trademark of snipers sure, but it had been more than that. It would have been something he would have been wary about, but Elijah had taken an immediate liking to her, and they'd been almost inseparable within a few months of her joining the team. That had been his gift, earning people's trust, and his loss had done a number on the team, especially Jaz. Dalton felt his lips curve as he watched her snorting with laughter as Amir recounted the way the attractive woman at the bar had passed right over McG and landed on Jason. 

"Whatever, she probably had a thing for blondes" McG said irritably. 

"You're just mad because you're not the prettiest one on the team anymore." Jaz retorted 

Jason glanced at her with a grin. 

"You think I'm pretty?" 

Jaz shrugged

"Yeah but don't worry, your personality ruins it." 

"Ouch" Amir said sympathetically, as Jaz waved them off and perched at the edge of the desk where Dalton sat. 

"You're frowning, what's wrong" she said, glancing down at the budget spreadsheet he'd pulled out to pass the time. Dalton looked down at the sheet he'd been staring at blankly for the past hour. 

"I'm not frowning" he replied, willing away the crease on his brow. 

"Uh huh. I'm just asking because PT really hurts when you're annoyed." 

"I'm not annoyed" Dalton said, realizing too late there was an edge to his tone. Her brow lifted and he cracked a smile. 

"Okay I'm annoyed. Preach was the numbers guy, not me." 

Jaz looked more closely at the budget and winced. 

"You think Patricia would let you hire an accountant?" 

"Yeah, right after she lets me install a Jacuzzi tub in the courtyard." 

She grinned at that

"We can dream right?" Jaz said breezily, sliding off the desk. "Oh I have your shirt, one of the ACU ones." 

"How do you know its his?" Amir butted in, "they all look the same. Could be mine, I'm missing one. " 

"Well first of all it's not extra small, so" 

McG snorted at that. 

"I wear a medium, not that it should matter" Amir said said to no one in particular. 

"Top and I wear the same size, how do you know it's not mine?" McG said, and the look he gave Jaz had her shoulders tensing. 

"You know what? Gear adrift is a gift. I have a new shirt now, happy?" She snapped, heading to her rack.  

McG lifted his hands in defense, but followed her, a grin on his face. 

"Whoa, touchy. Hey if you're stealing my shirt can I get that old scope of yours?" 

"It's not your shirt, and keep your hands off my shit." Jaz said. 

Dalton gazed after them with an amused grin on his face. Some small part of him was curious why Jaz was so certain the shirt belonged to him, but he didn't give in to the temptation to dwell on it. 

* * *

 

 It turned out they didn’t have long to wait before a call came in from Patricia. Dalton rose at the first ring and squinted at the clock that read 0400.

"Sorry for the early wake up call, but we have a situation."

"How serious?" 

"So far it's reading low on the radar. I'm hoping a quick interception will neutralize the threat."

"We can make it happen." 

"Great, I'll have my team ready to brief you within the hour." 

He made his way down the hallway to wake his team and was slightly surprised to see Amir step outside his door.

“We’ve gotta be wheels up at 0600, wake McG and Mancuso”

“Got it Top,” Amir said, his voice holding no trace of sleep.

Dalton rapped lightly on Jaz’s door. He didn’t hear movement, so he stepped inside her room and said her name quietly. She didn’t stir, and he walked forward to nudge her gently awake. Her blankets were kicked off onto the floor and the tank top she’d worn to bed had risen up, revealing smooth tanned skin. Dalton purposefully averted his eyes and tapped her gently on the shoulder.

She stirred at the touch, and stretched languidly, letting out a low moan that had every muscle in his body tensing.

Jaz opened her eyes sleepily and looked up at him.

There were three full seconds of silence before he stepped back stiffly.

“Campbell called, we’re wheels up in 2 hours”

“Sweet,” Jaz said, her voice still husky from sleep.

Dalton retreated to the Quonset hut to set up the tough-book cam, and briefly considered a cold shower.

* * *

 

Jaz scrubbed her hands over her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. She’d just awoken from an especially steamy dream with the subject of said dream tapping her lightly on the shoulder, and she still wasn’t quite certain if she’d moaned out loud. Images and sensations from the dream floated and scattered as she rolled out of bed. Jaz splashed cold water on her face before stumbling out to the kitchen where she was greeted by the smell of coffee. Dalton was fiddling with the the tough-book, so she grabbed two mugs and set a steaming one in front of him.

“Thanks,” he said, not looking up.

Jaz hummed in pleasure as she sipped her coffee, and missed the way Dalton stilled.

“God you still make the best coffee.”

He leaned on the table beside her and sipped his own.

“Yes I do” he said with a slow grin. Jaz chuckled and met his eyes. They warmed and he opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of McG shuffling into the kitchen behind them had his mouth snapping shut. Jaz frowned slightly as he stepped away.

 

* * *

 

 _I missed you_.

The words had been ready to tumble out before McG had walked in to stall the words in his chest. Dalton wasn’t irritated at the interruption, rather, he was grateful for it. The words would have held an entirely different weight if he said it to Jaz instead of anyone else on the team.

It shouldn’t.

Dalton focused on that thought, and when the connection to the DIA team finally clicked on, he shifted his focus to the mission, pushing out the thoughts that threatened to activate needs he had no right having. That focus wavered slightly when he looked back to find Jason slipping into the spot he’d vacated. He wasn’t sure why the sight annoyed him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated :). I can't help but love slow burn, ESPECIALLY with these two, but if it's boring let me know. 
> 
> Next up, an actual mission! And lots more Jalton tension.


	4. Unfinished business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, a huge thank you to Chibisere23, logictron, KA,and UndercoverWaterMoon who encouraged me when I hit a creative block. And also helped fix my weird writing quirks lol. Without these lovely people I wouldn't have been able to finish this chapter. Second, thank you to all of you who take the time to leave me feedback. It means so much! And also Marie1985, thank you for encouraging me to get back to it!

 

    There were always small adjustments to be made when a new member joined a team as close knit as theirs, even if the change was just temporary. That’s why, when Jason settled in to a seat next to Jaz on the small private plane, Amir quirked an eyebrow and nudged McG, who glanced out at Dalton signing off travel forms on the tarmac. Dalton headed automatically for the seat next to Jaz as he boarded the plane, and if Amir hadn’t been staring so intently, he would have missed the almost imperceptible halt in Dalton’s step before he turned and slid into the seat beside McG.  

Amir was so interested in the shifting dynamic that he kept glancing between Dalton and Jaz, until McG tapped him with his boot. He realized he hadn’t been as subtle as he’d thought when Dalton met his eyes. 

As for Jaz, she’d already curled up against the small window and fallen asleep. A morning person she was not.

* * *

 

Dalton pored over the report Patricia had faxed over. Their target was Anatoly Kuznetsov. He was a Russian SVR agent, responsible for several covert political assassinations abroad, and most recently, the death of an undercover operative with the CIA. Agent Rios had just gathered enough evidence against him to initiate an investigation when he’d suddenly disappeared and Kuznetsov had fled to Ukraine. Their mission was simple. Bring in Kuznetsov, in whatever way they saw fit. 

 

Dalton mulled over ideas as he scanned over the details in the file. The framework of a plan began to form in his mind. A close-up capture attempt would be too risky. Kuznetsov would be difficult  to get close to, even without a constant security detail. Dalton glanced up at Jaz curled up in her seat. A long range shot, if they could set one up, would be the safest option. 

 

He let the idea simmer as his eyes traveled over Jaz. She could curl herself up in the strangest places and fall asleep, he thought. He caught himself before the familiar smile bloomed on his face, and purposefully shifted his gaze. Deep down, he could admit he felt the smallest twinge of  _ something _ seeing his usual seat next to her filled by someone else. As unreasonable as it was, he’d missed the even sound of her breathing as she slept, and the way she sighed softly as she moved in her sleep. He’d simply missed her.

* * *

 

**Kiev, Ukraine**

Jaz glanced around the dimly lit room. The safe house in the city was little more than a boarded up storefront with a few dusty chairs and a table. Their voices echoed in the small empty room as they unloaded gear, and Jaz hopped up onto a dusty filing cabinet beside McG and Amir to help them sort through the small cache of weapons . 

 

Jason was quick and efficient in his setup of the comms unit with backup solar battery and signal booster. It felt strange not seeing Preach there, fiddling with wires and talking smack with McG. She felt a small tweak in her throat and vowed to call Preach as soon as they returned to the Quonset hut. McG was pestering Amir about something, but Jaz didn’t miss the way his eyes would flick to the comms setup every now and then, or the way he fell silent after a while. Preach’s absence, even temporary, had left an empty space in their little family. 

 

Jaz felt eyes on her and glanced back to see Dalton looking at her. He was studying her in that patient way of his, but unlike the first few months she’d been on his team, it no longer made her squirm. He nodded his head towards the door, gesturing for her to follow. 

 

“What’s going on?”

 

They were just out of earshot of the team when he turned to her. 

 

“Our best chance of taking out Kuznetsov is with a long range shot.” 

 

Jaz nodded her agreement.  

 

Dalton scratched his beard and continued, “I’m going to ground with Amir and McG, so I need to know if you’re good with Mancuso reading wind speed and confirming your angles.” 

 

“He passed his SFSC,” Jaz said, trying to hide her unease at trusting the accuracy of her shot to someone she barely knew. 

 

“Look, Jason’s new, so if you would rather have someone you trust reading wind speed then you can partner up with McG.” 

 

Jaz shook her head.“No, McG is too fidgety. I’ll make it work.” 

 

Dalton nodded and met her eyes. His gaze held hers for a second before dropping away. 

* * *

 

“Dalton,” Patricia said, nodding her greeting. He could see the weariness on her face. The events with Hoffman had hit her hard, and she still sat with the heaviness of it all. The dark anger deep within him stirred quietly. 

 

“Morning Deputy Director, we have visual on our tango yet?” 

 

“I’ve got a passport photo from about three years ago, we modified it with and without facial hair to help with the ID,” Hannah’s voice said over the coms. A small picture popped up in the corner of the screen as Hannah stepped up to the camera. Out of the corner of his eye Dalton saw Amir stand a little straighter, and he suppressed the urge to smile. 

 

“He frequents a hookah bar close to the National University. There’s an inn three blocks over with a high enough clearance to provide visual into the bar. Noah reserved a room with a street view already.” 

 

“I’ve got Jaz on overwatch with Jason. McG and Amir will confirm ID inside the bar while I canvas the street.” Dalton said, glancing back at his team. 

 

“We were able to capture enough chatter to determine Kuznetsov’s target. Michael Brenner, a high ranking US delegate.” Patricia nodded to Noah, who pulled an itinerary up on the screen. “As far as we’re able to determine, the assassination attempt is set to occur within days. It’s imperative Kuznetsov does not achieve his goal.” 

 

“Why not move Brenner to a safe house?” Dalton asked, “We do it quietly enough and we can keep him out of harm's way without alerting Kuznetsov”. 

 

“It’s possible, but we suspect a mole within Brenner’s security detail. His visit here was top secret, known only to the heads of the National Security Council.” 

 

Dalton nodded, not liking the odds. “So we get him before he makes his move, or it’s lights out for Brenner?” 

 

Patricia nodded gravely. “He’s highly trained, if he’s alerted he’ll go dark again, and there’s no telling when he’ll surface.”

 

Dalton nodded and looked at his team. “We’ll get it done.” 

* * *

 

The weather in Kiev had hopped right over spring and slammed into summer. The air was stiflingly hot, and Jaz almost immediately wrapped her braid into a bun. The light tank top she wore clung to her skin and she shifted uncomfortably, hiking the large backpack containing her sniper rifle higher up onto her back. She and Jason were posing as backpackers, and they pulled out fake passports to check into the small inn. Dalton perused the streets, posing as an American businessman, as Amir and McG approached the bar entrance. 

 

Jaz made quick work of assembling her rifle once they got into the hotel room, and studied the picture Jason had pulled up on the screen. She committed the features to memory, so that when she looked through her scope she could easily identify her target. 

 

“You good?” Jason asked, and Jaz willed her shoulders not to tense. 

 

“Yup.” 

 

“Remember the field days during the final phase of SFSC?” 

 

Jaz polished her scope as she waited for Dalton’s orders. 

 

“12 hours of laying motionless in the mud and grass while our instructors roamed the hillside looking for us? Hard to forget.” She murmured

 

“I hear you, and a terrible time to discover you have a grass allergy.” 

 

Jaz snorted. “It’s not ideal.” 

 

“Right? Anyway, I had almost flawless cover while the DI was scanning my sector, until I sneezed and completely blew it.” Jason continued

 

Jaz laughed and felt the tension ease. “And yet you passed?” 

 

“As I said, scraped by, barely.” Jason said dryly. 

 

“Commencing sweep, Amir, McG. Confirm ID,” Dalton’s voice cut in. 

 

All small talk ceased as each member of the team became laser focused on their task. 

 

“Jaz, positive ID on Kuznetsov. He’s in the back corner of the room, red shirt,” Amir’s voice came over the comms. 

 

Jaz moved her scope slightly across the large glass panes. 

 

“Can’t get a clear shot with that many civilians,” she murmured. 

 

“Hold tight,” Dalton said. “McG. Let Kuznetsov see you.”

 

“Boss?” 

 

“Make eye contact, hold it.” 

 

Jaz heard McG clear his throat. 

 

“This isn’t gonna end with me pretending to get my ass kicked again is it?” 

 

Jaz smirked and kept an eye on Kuznetsov through her scope. 

 

“He’s moving,” she said. 

 

“Good, McG, move in front of the main door, we want him to move through the alley.” 

 

Jaz saw McG rise and step casually to the door, and her scope followed Kuznetsov as he turned and headed to the other side of the room. 

“Jaz, he’s coming out on the south side.” 

 

“Copy.”

 

Jaz let out a slow careful breath, her finger hovered over the trigger, and brushed it as Kuznetsov stepped into sight. 

 

A delivery boy crossed her path. 

 

“I don’t have a shot,” Jaz said, breathing through the frustration as Kuznetsov disappeared down the alley.  

 

“Moving in,” Dalton said, and Jaz felt a tightening in her gut. He was risking too much. 

 

“Top he’s got four armed guards with him” Amir said. 

 

“Coming in as backup” McG added. 

 

“No, hold your position” Dalton ordered. “All right Noah, I’ve got a license plate. Echo, Mike, one, three, five, eight, Alpha, India.” 

 

Jaz didn’t realize she was holding her breath until Dalton reappeared. 

 

“We’re tracking the vehicle with limited traffic cams,” Hannah’s voice said over the comms. 

 

“Car’s registered at a hotel downtown.” Noah chimed in. 

 

“That’s close to the building where Brenner is meeting with several heads of state. Brenner’s ETA is anywhere from thirty to forty minutes from now,” Patricia said. 

 

“We gotta get to him before that.” Dalton said, and Jaz immediately began disassembling her sniper rifle. 

 

“Rendezvous at the van.” 

* * *

 

 

They pulled into a parking spot across the street from the government building. Dalton eyed the guards milling about the entrance. It would make their job difficult. 

 

“Amir you’re with me. Jaz--” he met her eyes, “--be ready for takedown when I make the call.” 

 

She nodded, pulling out the pieces of her sniper rifle. 

 

There was silent tension as the invisible clock ticked away time. He and Amir split, taking on opposite ends of the courtyard. Dalton scanned the area, careful to assume a casual demeanor. Kuznetsov would bolt if he made them. 

 

“I’ve got visual on Brenner, no sign of Kuznetsov” Amir said. 

 

Dalton did another sweep and just made out the figure of Kuznetsov slinking along the exterior wall. 

 

“Jaz, south sector, on my signal.” 

 

“Affirmative,” her voice was steady in his ear. 

 

Dalton trusted her aim and stepped into the Russian’s field of view. He glanced back and saw the guards were turned away from them. 

 

“Okay Jaz, you got a line of sight behind that planter?”

  
“Yup.” 

  
“All right.” 

 

Kuznetsov whipped out his weapon so fast Dalton didn’t even have the chance to react, and he had a moment, when all sound stopped and time slowed as his mind tried to comprehend the implications of his own death, and then he breathed a sigh of relief as the man dropped. He brushed off the spike of adrenaline and darted over, pulling the body back and into the thick copse of trees surrounding the building. He patted Kuznetsov down and pocketed his phone, weapon, and a small leather-bound notebook he’d found in his suit jacket. 

 

“Top you’ve got a problem, sec forces just entered the courtyard,” McG said over the comms. 

 

“Right.” Dalton paused, weighing his options. It would be tough to make his way out of the trees without being spotted, and he couldn’t exactly stay with the dead body. He was no match against ten heavily armed men. There was the crunch of leaves underfoot and Dalton whipped around to see Jaz hurrying towards him, hair loose around her shoulders. She gripped his arm and pulled him out of the trees, winding her arms around his waist and looking up at him with a playful smile, despite the nervous energy buzzing in her gaze. He saw Kuznetsov’s security detail eye them and move on. They’d played the tourist couple well. 

 

“We need to move,” he said, and threw an arm across Jaz’s shoulder as they headed behind the building to the small street housing miscellaneous shops.

 

“We’re picking up Amir, and then we’ll circle around, meet you two at the end of the street,” McG said over the comms. 

 

Dalton glanced down at Jaz as they turned a corner. “Good call back there, you saved my ass, twice.” 

 

She shrugged, and in an unexpected move, rested her head on his shoulder. 

 

It stilled him, the way she leaned completely into him. The brief contact was gone as quickly as it came, and Jaz looked away as she spoke. 

 

“Don’t scare me like that again.”

 

Before he could begin to ponder the statement, the sound of sirens echoed through the street. 

 

“Bad news, they found the body. You’ve got to get out of there, they’re stopping people for questioning,” Amir said hurriedly. 

 

Dalton met Jaz’s eyes and they quickened their pace, winding through the narrow streets. The sirens blared closer, and Dalton heard distant shouting. They turned into another street, hoping to break line of sight. 

 

“Top, Jaz, you two need to disappear before security makes you,” McG said urgently.

Dalton scanned the empty street, looking for a way out. It was still early enough that most buildings were closed. He jiggled the handle on one of the shop doors, but didn’t force it. On the off chance it was alarmed he would only attract more attention. 

 

“Top, sec forces are almost on top of you.” 

 

Dalton grimaced as he scanned for options. 

 

“We could do the drunk lost couple,” Jaz said, the tension in her voice revealing she thought that had about as much a chance of working as he did. 

 

Knowing they were out of options, he lifted his arm and she stepped in beside him to wrap her arms around his waist. Even with the risk looming above them, the feel of her pressed solidly against him--and his carnal reaction to that-- had him shifting back guiltily. The plank he bumped against moved, and Dalton thanked whatever source of luck had managed to provide the narrow escape as he pried the plank back. Jaz noticed immediately and pushed on the plank with him, darting inside when a large enough space opened. 

 

Dalton squeezed in, the space barely large enough for the two of them. He struggled to maneuver his arm back to move the plank into place, so Jaz slid forward, brushing against him as she jerked the plank into place. The street was still empty, but the sound of voices carried. Security was close. Dalton reached for his sidearm, pressing Jaz against the wall in the process, and mouthed a  _ sorry  _ to her as she scowled up at him. The sound of footsteps was close now. Neither of them risked movement. Sunlight streamed in through the gap left by the plank highlighting the bright blue of Jaz’s top. He pulled her to him so that the bar of light missed her by millimeters, and they stayed locked together, hardly daring to breathe as the men moved methodically through the street. It felt like an eternity before Jason’s voice came over the comms. 

 

“All clear, move out on the south end.” 

 

Dalton sagged in relief and Jaz let out a sigh.  

 

“That was damn close,” she said glancing up at him, her face inches from his. 

 

It built in him, that slow yearning for her, and he let out a steadying breath as she slid away from him.

 

“We had to ditch the vehicle, they’re closing off the streets.” McG said.

“All right, regroup on the street. Looks like there’s a bit of a commotion up ahead. Might be useful cover,” Dalton murmured, hand on his weapon as he slipped quickly into the street. 

* * *

 

There was a murmur of voices as they stepped out into a sunlit street with a steadily growing crowd in the middle of it.

 

Jaz spotted Amir and McG casually making their way down the street across from them, Jason trailing behind. 

 

“Looks like the beginnings of a street riot,” Jason said, pausing as if to look for something. 

 

“Watch out!” McG yelled, and Jaz leapt out of the way just in time to avoid getting hit by a flying molotov. The heat of the flames surged, and they hurried away from the tumult of angry voices.  

 

“We’re about to get caught in the crossfire. Head to the safehouse,” Dalton commanded.

 

Sirens blared, and Jaz felt adrenaline kick in as they headed away from the growing crowd. Military vehicles rumbled up the street and they moved back immediately. 

 

“We’ve got Ukrainian military coming up the street, head back through the crowd and fast,” Dalton ordered. 

 

She hurried alongside him, and soon they were in the midst of a thick angry crowd, most of them wielding weapons in the form of glass bottles, rocks, or pipes. 

 

“Jesus, what the hell did we walk into?” McG muttered. 

 

The air was ripe with tension, the atmosphere only made worse by the arrival of several Ukrainian policemen. Jaz was yanked suddenly back and thrown to the floor. Glass shattered inches from her temple, and she felt a sting as several shards sliced her skin. There were screams as the crowd parted and the hiss of tear gas being thrown into their midst. 

 

“Jaz?!” Dalton’s voice was panicked, and Jaz struggled to get up as the tear gas rapidly rose and spread. 

Someone grabbed at her and she took him out with a sharp uppercut, hearing the rip of fabric as she was grabbed by Ukrainian police. He raised his baton and did a double take as it was yanked out of his hand. Jaz kicked out, knocking his feet out from under him, and Dalton knocked him out with the baton. 

 

“You okay?” 

  
Jaz nodded, coughing, and they took off in a full sprint, shoving through the growing crowd. Her eyes and throat burned, but she ran on, stopping only when they were at a considerable distance from the violent protest.

 

They made it to the safe house just as McG, Amir, and Jason came stumbling up from an alley, coughing and gagging. 

 

Dalton bent over, clasping his side, and Jaz slipped an arm under his shoulder, helping him into the building. They immediately stripped their clothing, and Jaz stepped behind a wall, stripping the torn tank top and slipping on fresh clothes. She rinsed her face with some bottled water, and felt the stinging fade. Amir was hunched over at the table as she emerged, and she eased slowly down onto a rickety chair, groaning at the pain in her hip. The cuts along her face and and arm stung, and she was mildly aware of blood running down her arm from a deeper cut on her shoulder. 

 

McG was bent over Jason, who sat with his shirt off as blood bloomed from a cut along his collarbone. 

 

Jaz glanced up as a warm hand grasped her elbow. 

 

“Let me clean those,” Dalton murmured, pressing disinfectant-soaked gauze to her temple. 

 

His face was hard as he wiped blood from her skin. He frowned at the cut on her shoulder, and Jaz stilled as he cupped her cheek, tilting her head slightly. 

 

“Did you hit your head?” 

 

Jaz swallowed, her throat suddenly closed.

 

“No,” she murmured, heart thundering in her chest as his thumb stroked gently across her cheekbone. 

 

There was the clang of metal, and Dalton dropped his hand, standing suddenly. 

 

“McG check the cut on Jaz’s shoulder; it looks deep.”

 

He punched a few numbers into his phone and walked off as he relayed updated information to Patricia. 

 

Jaz pressed a cool cloth to her still burning eyes, coughing slightly and wincing at the pain in her chest. The irritation would fade within a few hours, but for now the team sat miserably hunched in the safe house. 

 

“Let me have a look at that,” McG said, his voice hoarse from the tear gas. 

 

Jaz hunched over so McG could look at her shoulder and jerked back suddenly as she spotted red wetness at his back. 

 

“Jaz, hold still.” 

 

“You’re bleeding!” 

 

McG glanced sheepishly at his back. 

 

“It’s just a flesh wound,” he said, letting out a curse as Jaz lifted the shirt from his back “Ow dammit.” 

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she demanded. 

 

“I was a little busy,” he said dryly. 

 

“Yeah and what good are you gonna be to us when you’re down, huh?” 

“Comedic relief?” McG offered. 

“You’re not as funny as you think.” 

 

“Why do you have to be so hurtful when I’m injured?” 

 

“I thought it was a flesh wound,” Jaz shot back, gingerly wiping blood from the wound. 

 

“Might need a stitch or two,” McG said, groaning as another coughing fit had more blood seeping from the jagged cut. 

 

“I’ll stitch it up, just tell me what to do,” Jaz said, willing her voice to remain steady.

 

Although she didn’t consider herself especially squeamish, the thought of sewing human skin shut had her going slightly pale. 

 

Amir appeared silently beside Jaz with surgical thread and a needle. Jaz took the needle and stared at it for a full second before reaching for the thread. 

 

“You know, I have a bit more practice with sewing. I can do it,” Amir said lightly, watching her. 

 

Jaz handed the needle over gratefully and stepped aside to give Amir some room. Jason held out a wad of gauze for her, and she pressed it to the cut on her shoulder. 

 

“You good?” She asked, eyeing the cut on his collarbone. 

 

Jason waved it off but paused suddenly, an amused gleam in his eye. 

 

“Hurts pretty bad, you could kiss it better.” 

 

Jaz rolled her eyes and snorted. “Yeah. Clearly you’re fine.”

 

Jason grinned. “That was a hell of a shot today.”

 

Slightly embarrassed by the compliment, Jaz shrugged. 

 

“Seriously,” Jason continued, “I’ve known plenty of soldiers who wouldn’t have a dream of making that shot. Your accuracy is impressive. I’d love to get some pointers.” 

 

Because she recognized the interest as genuine, and not just an excuse to make a move on her, Jaz smiled. 

 

“Sure.”

* * *

 

Dalton stared at the floor as he disconnected the phone, holding the leather bound journal in his hands. The edginess he felt had nothing to do with his current state of discomfort, and everything to do with the dark haired woman who'd slipped past the boundaries he usually erected around himself. He'd lost control. The noise, smoke, and constant threat of  violence had him acting on instinct alone, a survival tactic that served him well in moments of danger, but loosened the chains on the darkness he kept trapped within him. It had come out of him, that ugly violence, when he'd seen Jaz thrown to the floor. His brain had clouded in anger and he would have kept hitting the policeman with his own baton, but her gaze had caught his, just for a moment, and that ugliness had cleared. Dalton scrubbed a hand over his face and stood

He made his way back into the small room and paused. Jason was lifting the hair from Jaz’s shoulder, pressing something to the cut there as she winced. Jason put the blood stained gauze down and traced his fingers over the skin just below the cut. She glanced up at him as he said something, and a slow smile bloomed on her face. Dalton looked away. Something hard fell into his gut as his brain conjured up images of those hands trailing across other parts of her skin.

 

And it was none of his business, Dalton thought as he stepped over to Amir and McG. Amir was rinsing a neatly stitched wound on McG’s lower back. 

 

“How the hell did you stitch that?” Dalton asked McG. 

 

“Despite my legendary medical skills, I don’t bend that way. Amir did it,” McG mumbled from his position on the floor. 

 

Dalton raised an eyebrow.“Impressive, those crochet skills really paid off huh buddy?” 

 

Amir gave Dalton a withering look as McG snorted. 

 

“I don’t know why you think I would know how to crochet,” Amir muttered.

 

“It just seems like a pastime you would enjoy,” McG added. 

 

“You know what, maybe I’ll just add in a couple v stitches to shut you up,” Amir shot back. 

 

“Ha! See, you do know how to crochet, a v stitch is the first one they teach you,” McG crowed, rolling up and trying to get a view of the cut on his back. 

“I’m well-read,” Amir said defensively. He paused for a moment and narrowed his eyes. “How do you know that’s the first stitch they teach you?”

 

McG froze for a moment and shrugged. “I guessed.” 

 

Amir’s grin was pure enjoyment as he looked McG dead in the eye. 

 

“ _ You _ know how to crochet, don’t you  _ Joseph, _ ” he said slyly.

 

McG sputtered slightly and glanced at Jaz as she walked over with an amused grin on her face. 

 

“Is that what you do on your downtime? Crochet doilies for your kitchen?” 

 

“All right you know what? I do know how to crochet. My grandma used to babysit me a lot as a kid, she didn’t have a TV. ” 

 

Jaz snorted as she handed McG a half empty water bottle. 

 

“I fully expect a crocheted scarf this Christmas,” she said with mock seriousness. 

 

Dalton chuckled and stepped over to Jason, handing him the leather bound book. 

 

“Scan in these images and send them to the DIA, they’ve got a team of analysts on standby.” 

 

* * *

 

Jaz sighed and stretched out the kinks in her shoulder, wincing at the pull on her cut. 

 

They’d been stuck in the safehouse for over five hours as violent riots continued to erupt on the streets of Kiev. The team was banged up and bruised, but they were forced to remain where they were until the borders reopened. They’d already contacted the DIA with a full mission debrief, and Jason had scanned the entire journal over to them. Amir was currently poring over the journal, trying to work out the clues left there, but he was coming up mostly empty. 

 

McG rummaged through his bag and dropped it with a muttered curse. 

 

“What’s up?” Jaz asked.

 

“We’re out of food.” 

 

“Hmm, no I think I have something,” she said, and reached for a slightly stale package of rice cakes in her go bag. 

 

“Here.”

 

““What the hell is this?”

“Food.”

 

“Food? It looks like packaging material.” He gave it an experimental whiff. “It actually smells like nothing.” 

 

“It’s a rice cake,” Jaz said flatly. “Now will you shut up?” 

 

McG took a bite and immediately screwed up his face. “I’m eating styrofoam! I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but I think I would prefer an MRE at this point.” 

 

“Fine then, give them back.” 

 

McG snatched the bag away and crunched into another rice cake. 

 

“No, I think I’m getting used to them.” 

 

Jaz rolled her eyes and left McG grimacing over the package. 

 

She joined Dalton, who was standing at the boarded up window, looking out at the street littered with glass and paper. A particularly rowdy group of protesters had thundered through the street earlier, but they were long gone now. 

 

“Jason managed to tune into local radio. My Ukranian is rusty, but sounds like the borders will remain closed until tomorrow.” 

 

Dalton glanced down at her, his eyes flicking to the bruising on her temple. 

 

“Looks like we’re in for a long night,” he murmured, and then gestured to her temple. “How’s the head?” 

 

“Fine. You look worried.” 

 

Dalton shook his head as he stared out the cracks. “Something about that notebook is bothering me. Looks like a lot more than records of assassination attempts.” 

 

“DIA analysts come back with anything solid yet?” 

 

“No,” Dalton murmured, his brow creased. 

 

Jaz lifted her hand and almost immediately let it drop. The instinct to smooth the crease on his brow had been so strong, she’d almost acted on it. She fell quiet beside him, breathing in the same warm woodsy scent that had comforted her on leave until the scent had faded from his t-shirt. There were emotions there, simmering beneath the surface as she looked at Dalton’s profile. Emotions that had no right being there. 

 

The image of Kuznetsov pointing a gun right at Dalton’s chest flashed in her brain. Even now, her heart thundered at the fear she’d felt when all she could do was pray her bullet landed true. He hadn’t worn protection. He could have been gone, in an instant. The image of Elijah broken in her arms bloomed in her mind, and then, made horribly more realistic through memory, the picture Arthur had held up of Dalton. She wasn’t aware she was clenching her fists until Dalton said her name. 

 

“Jaz?” He repeated, gently this time. 

 

She looked up at him, sure the tumult of emotions was clear on her face. 

 

“Talk to me,” he urged, blue eyes probing. 

 

How could she tell him she had an equal desire to wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his chest, and also go sprinting off in the opposite direction because the way she felt around him terrified her in its intensity. 

 

Jaz forced herself to smile. 

 

“Nothing, I’m just tired.” 

 

She could tell he didn’t believe her, but he dropped it, opting instead to lean back on the table beside her. 

 

“We should all get some rest,” he murmured 

 

Jaz glanced at the dusty floor behind them. 

 

“What I wouldn’t give for that shitty mattress back at base right now.” 

“Builds character right?” Dalton replied. 

 

“I’ve built enough damn character to last me a lifetime.” 

 

Dalton laughed and tossed his bag onto the floor, leaning back against it like a pillow. 

 

Because she still felt a little jittery at the thought of almost losing him, she dropped her own bag beside his and stretched out next to him, far enough away to keep things professional, but close enough that she could still breathe in the scent of him and assure herself he wouldn’t disappear if she closed her eyes. She’d been taught to compartmentalize while on mission, they all had, but that training didn’t always involve the time when the mission was over, when those compartments tended to collapse into each other, and those moments when you felt afraid, or angry, or anything really, would come back and sit in your head as you tried to fall asleep. 

 

Jaz closed her eyes and tried to catch a few hours of rest. There was the shuffling of feet and the soft thud of bags as the rest of the team settled onto the hard floor. Sleep eluded her still, and she opened her eyes, staring at the bars of moonlight painting the ceiling. 

 

“Wanna hear a joke?” 

 

Jaz turned her head and gave Dalton a puzzled look. 

 

“What?” 

 

“What time did the man go to the dentist?” 

 

Jaz gave him a look, and when he simply raised his eyebrow at her she sighed. 

 

“Okay, what time did he go to the dentist?” 

 

“Tooth hurty.” 

 

Jaz groaned. 

 

“That was terrible,” McG commented from a few feet away. 

 

Silence fell, and then Amir piped in, “What did the buffalo say to his son when he went off to college?” A brief pause. “Bison.” 

 

Someone snorted. 

 

“What do you call a cow with a twitch?” McG said.

 

“Beef jerky,” Jason finished for him. 

 

“Hey that was my punch line,” McG complained. 

 

Jaz smiled up at the ceiling, and felt her eyes getting heavy. She knew what Dalton had done, and that place in her chest that, as of late, seemed to be reserved just for him warmed and grew. When she turned to look at him, he was smiling at her in that soft way of his that made her just a little trembly inside. Exhaustion overwhelmed her and she closed her eyes, telling herself she would thank him just as soon as she was finished blinking. 

* * *

 

A bar of sunlight gleaming across his face was enough to wake him. Dalton opened his eyes to see Jaz curled up a foot away from him, dark hair spilling over her bag and onto the floor. He saw his own hand curled lightly over her wrist, and he moved it immediately. It was strange, but he felt more well-rested after sleeping on a dusty floor than he had in weeks sleeping in his own bed. It wasn’t a mystery to him why. He’d become addicted to her presence when he slept, and that was a bad place to be in. 

 

The phone in his pocket buzzed, and Dalton reached for it. Jaz let out a breathy sigh as she woke and it shot a bolt of need straight into his groin. 

 

“Jesus,” he muttered, jumping up to hide the growing evidence of his arousal and wishing it was anyone else but Patricia on the other end of that line. 

 

“What?” Jaz asked, her voice thick with sleep. 

 

“Nothing, phone call,” he snapped, darting off to the small alcove. 

 

“Looks like somebody woke up on the wrong side of the floor” McG said grumpily, rubbing at his eyes. 

 

Dalton answered the phone and felt a chill at Patricia’s measured tone.

“Dalton, we’ve got trouble.” 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Also, Preach is returning soon, Jason just needs to be here to push the dummies (aka Dalton and Jaz) closer together. Lastly, you can find me on tumblr, my username is icarryyourheart16. I'll post on there my progress to getting new chapters up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the Fab 5, who put in so much effort and time to help me get this out. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this next installment!

Dalton stared at the phone in his hand. His head was still reeling from Patricia’s words. 

 

_ Hoffman.  _

 

She’d recognized one of Hoffman’s aliases from the scanned picture of the notebook, one he’d used countless times when she’d been his handler. The team of DIA analysts was still busy analyzing the pictures, but Patricia knew enough to recognize that even from beyond the grave, Hoffman had woven a tangled web. Dalton felt his blood heat. He wondered if he’d acted faster, would it have stopped all of this? 

 

The slight change of tone in Patricia’s voice told him that she was taking the news harder than he was. From the lack of background noise, he knew she’d gone to a private line, so he spoke freely. 

 

“Patricia, this thing that’s happening, none of this is on you,” he said. There was a beat of silence before he heard a sigh. 

 

“You’re right,” she paused again, longer this time, before finally adding, “Thank you for reminding me.”

 

The line went dead, and Dalton stared at the beams of light creeping towards the shadowy corner where he stood. He would have to deliver the news to his team eventually, but the time wasn’t right. They were exhausted and battered from the latest mission, and delivering news that hit this close to home wasn’t the right move. 

 

Dalton took another moment to settle himself and stepped out to speak to his team, his face placid. 

 

“Good news.Director Campbell has a plane waiting to take us back to Incirlik.” 

 

There were groans of appreciation, and he smiled. There would be time later--after good food and rest--to break the news. 

 

* * *

 

**Quonset Hut - 0400**

 

_ “Two tangos coming in on your right” Jaz murmured over the coms, and watched as her team dispatched the two men in quick succession.  _

 

_ They breached the building and Jaz continued scanning the compound for movement. She heard them clearing rooms, and jumped when a voice sounded right beside her.  _

 

_ “You failed them anyway, dear.” It was her father, and he was looking out at the building that held her team.  _

 

_ An explosion rocked them with so much force, Jaz was thrown back. She was up and running before the ash started to fall _ . 

 

Her bare feet hit the floor and she was standing before she was fully awake. Her breath came in pathetic gasps as she sped towards the door across from her own, and her fingers barely brushed the handle before she pulled herself back, forcing her breathing to calm. 

But air was too dense, and panic gripped her throat. 

 

Jaz backed away from Dalton’s door and strode straight out into the kitchen. What the hell was she gonna do? Press a hand to his neck to see if his heart was still beating? Stupid. Of course he was fine, they all were. 

 

She was well acquainted with the terrible loneliness of 4am.That strange in between time, when bad memories tended to slip out without the noise and stability of a regular routine. She stood barefoot in the middle of the empty Quonset hut, unsure of herself. 

 

Silence was heavy in the big open space, and she flipped on a light at the kitchen table, eyeing the chair where she’d spent so many early mornings recovering from Tehran. 

 

It caused a frisson of dread to run up her spine, so she turned away from it, settling instead on the big recliner. 

 

Panic faded, and in its place came the annoyance that she was still dealing with the aftermath of Tehran. Jaz ran a hand through her hair and took a steadying breath.  _ It was a nightmare _ , she told herself. But it sat within her, this unreasonable fear that she would lose everything. Images flashed in her mind. Real ones made more horrible by the passage of time, because memories often manifested as what they  _ felt _ like, and not what they were. 

 

They meant the world to her, this group of men who fought by her side. She’d been at her weakest, sure she could break no further, and then she had, but they’d come. With fierce faces and terrified eyes, they’d come for her and pulled her back into the light. It was more than anyone had ever done for her, and even then, they hadn’t stopped. They’d guarded her on the way back, standing for her when she simply couldn’t anymore. Because everyone reaches their limit and she had reached hers. Being strong was all she had, and when that was ripped from her? When she was only left with the weakness? They were strong for her. 

 

It pried away at the layers of steel she’d wrapped herself in. They were all entwined around her heart, and fear of losing that had her blood running cold. 

  
  


A soft shuffling sound had Jaz glancing up. Dalton nodded at her and headed for the coffee machine, pausing when he noticed they were out of grounds. He looked back at her with mock gravity. 

 

“We’re out of coffee.” 

 

Jaz smiled and walked to the kitchen, reaching behind the potatoes to grab a small bag she’d stashed especially for such an occasion.

 

“This is our secret,” she said pointedly. 

 

“My lips are sealed.” 

 

Dalton leaned back against the counter as she measured coffee into the machine. He grimaced and took the spoon from her to scoop some grounds back into the bag. 

 

“I want to wake up, not have a heart attack.” 

 

Jaz rolled her eyes and added water. 

 

“I woke you didn’t I?” she asked. 

 

She saw him consider denying it, but he shrugged instead.

 

“I wanted to get up for a morning run anyway.” 

 

“At four in the morning?” 

 

“I was feeling optimistic,” he said dryly.

 

Jaz smiled and leaned on the counter beside him. A comfortable silence fell, and she felt herself soothed by his presence. 

 

“Everything ok?” Dalton asked hesitantly.

 

“Nightmare. I’ve been good mostly. This one was kind of random.” 

 

She felt his gaze on her, but although she’d been brave enough to admit to the nightmare, she wasn’t brave enough to meet his eyes. The softness in them weakened her, and she already felt vulnerable enough. 

 

“Want to talk about it?” 

 

Jaz bit her lip and fiddled with a loose thread on her tank top. “Guess I’m still a little freaked out. Thought I would have it under control by now.” 

 

Her heart still beat a little too fast, and flushes of heat made sweat bead on her upper lip. This was unfamiliar to her, and she wondered if the trembling weakness she tried so hard to hide would ever leave her. 

 

She couldn’t say anything else, for fear of shattering the fragile control she had over her emotions, and Dalton seemed to understand. 

 

“Well, want some company then? Nothing I hate more than sitting up at four in the morning by myself.” 

 

Jaz considered brushing him off, telling him she was fine, because she  _ was _ fine, she was just a little shook up was all. But she found the thought of being alone more unpleasant than admitting she wanted the company, so she nodded, heading for the recliner. He followed, easing back onto the couch close to her so they could keep their voices low. 

 

She curled her feet under her and glanced at Dalton, who was looking at her, a peculiar expression on his face.

 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

 

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, shaking his head. 

 

“What?” she prompted suspiciously. 

 

He looked conflicted for a moment before speaking. 

 

“I worry about you,” and at her look he raised his hand, stalling her, “not because I think you aren’t capable of handling anything that comes your way, but because I recognize that look. I’ve felt it myself, and seeing someone I…” He trailed off. “I just. I understand Jaz, and I want you to know you’re not alone.” 

 

Jaz didn’t know what to say, so she picked absently at the bits of pleather that were beginning to lift from the arm of the recliner. The coffee pot gurgled, and Jaz jumped up to grab mugs, motioning for Dalton to sit. She tossed enough sugar and milk into her cup that she could practically imagine Preach waking from a deep sleep, only to be offended by her excessive sugar intake. 

 

Jaz walked slowly to Dalton, handing him a mug, and wavered slightly before settling beside him on the couch. She was done fighting her own weakness, and gave in to her need to be close to him. Her thigh brushed his, and the warm contact centered her, anchoring her to the present. He took a sip and sighed in pleasure before glancing at Jaz. 

 

“I see you’re taking advantage of Preach’s absence to drink liquid sugar.” 

 

Jaz scoffed. “It’s not that bad.” 

 

“Uh huh.” Dalton reached over, snagging her mug for a sip, and winced. “I think I just got diabetes.” Jaz rolled her eyes and bumped his knee with her own. 

 

“Drink your sad black coffee then.” 

 

Dalton chuckled and settled into the silence. He wouldn’t push her for answers, and strangely that was what seemed to prod her to speak. 

 

Jaz let out a shuddering breath and confessed the thing that haunted her before she lost her nerve. 

 

“They um,” Jaz closed her eyes and pushed down on the horror climbing up her throat. “They showed me a picture made to look like you were dead. I thought, I thought it was real, just for a moment. But, I keep seeing it. And the team, I thought you’d all been captured coming after me, and I- If something had happened...” The words were clumsy, and they came out wrong, but Dalton didn’t seem to need clarification. 

 

He was still beside her for a long time before he reached for the hand by her side. For the smallest of seconds his fingers squeezed, and the pad of his thumb brushed the top of her hand before he let go. It was a soothing gesture. It said  _ I understand, I know. _

 

The cold hard thing that had been sitting in her chest since Tehran wiggled loose. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

The news that Hoffman was still pulling strings, even from beyond the grave, had hit them all hard. They’d sat quietly through Dalton’s briefing, and Jaz had seen in her teammates’ faces that they all relived the tense final moments of their last deployment. Preach’s absence was felt more strongly than ever. 

 

Analysts scouring  the data had managed to make enough connections to send them off to a compound in Allepo. The drive was a little less than four hours, so they loaded one of the large vans to enter Syria as inconspicuously as possible. 

 

Jaz thought that she’d gotten past the fears the dream had brought back up, but that proved untrue when they were under fire. The wind tossed sand into her face and she pulled out her tactical goggles to help keep her vision clear. She estimated her wind speed and adjusted her scope eleven clicks to the right. 

 

Dalton was approaching the building from the left with Amir, and Jason and McG were coming in on the right. Jaz kept a careful eye out for any movement, and rattled off locations as enemy units tried to get the jump on her team. 

 

“Bottom compound is cleared, awaiting next orders, Top,” she reported.

 

“Stay on overwatch in case of reinforcements,” he ordered. 

 

Jaz felt a jiggle of nerves staying up on the tower while her team cleared the building below. It felt too similar to the dream that had had her leaping out of bed two nights ago. A truck bumped over the dirt road toward the building and Jaz turned her scope towards the driver. The three men in the truck wore the same insignia on their chests. 

 

“I’ve got three tango’s coming in on a vehicle, engaging.” 

 

“Jason, head out for support,” Dalton ordered. 

 

“I’m taking out the driver, then the passenger in the front seat. Jason you’ve got the passenger in the rear left,” Jaz murmured.

 

She turned her rifle 45 degrees to the left, and then adjusted her scope three clicks back. The truck slowed and she let out a slow breath to steady her hands. The first shot took out the driver and by luck managed to line up perfectly to hit the passenger behind him. She moved the rifle ever so slightly and took out the baffled soldier in the front passenger seat. 

 

“Well I guess I’m no longer needed,” Jason said, impressed. 

 

“I’ll let you have the next one,” Jaz said with a grin that froze in place when she heard rapid gunfire and a grunt over the coms. 

 

“Amir is down! We’re under fire here! Can’t determine source!” McG yelled over the coms, and Jaz scanned the exterior rapidly. There was nothing outside. 

 

“Coming in for support!” Jaz yelled over her com, and she saw Jason disappear back into the building. 

 

“Amir, you with us buddy?” She could hear Dalton and McG’s fear-tinged voices through the coms 

 

Jaz took the stairs two at a time and sprinted into the building. She had her secondary weapon up and ready to fire when she spotted her targets. 

 

“I’ve got movement on the second floor, pursuing,” Jaz said quietly.

 

“We’ve got at least four up there, maybe more,” McG said.

 

“Wait on support,” Dalton ordered.

 

Two of the men were moving towards her team pinned down below, and Jaz sprinted after them. 

 

“Jaz, no!” Dalton yelled.

 

One of them had injured and possibly killed Amir. Anger clouded her vision and she fired two rounds into a man’s back. He fell, and she heard Dalton cursing over the coms. 

 

She darted after the second retreating form, and if her first mistake had been letting emotion cloud her judgement, her second was not checking her corners. A large man took her out in a running tackle, and she felt her bones jar as she was thrown against the floor.

 

In a move she could only attribute to her years of training, she managed to take the man behind him out as they went down, but she lost her grip, and her gun left an arc of bullets up the wall before it skidded across the floor. 

 

The Ka-bar strapped to her thigh turned out to be a lifesaver, as she was able to jab him with it in the neck before he put a bullet in her head. Warm wetness spilled onto her and seeped into her clothes, and despite her years of experience there was still a small rush of horror at the reality of such a close combat kill. 

 

She managed to free herself just in time for the fourth man to run back into the doorway, raise his gun, and aim it at her head. The fear didn’t even get a chance to bloom before training took over and she threw the knife into his chest. 

 

Her breath was stuck in her throat.

 

There was movement to her left and she whipped around, reaching for her sidearm only to slump back in relief.. Dalton stood, pale faced, in the doorway for a second before rushing to her side. 

 

“Jaz? Where are you hit?” His voice was breathless as he dragged her up, propping her up on his knee as he began loosening the straps on her combat vest.

 

She was still winded from the tackle and she struggled to regain her breath.   

 

“I’m fine.It’s not my blood,” she managed to grit out. “Is Amir?...” She was too afraid to ask. Dalton stared at her, his breath ragged. 

 

“I’m okay, Jaz,” Amir said, his voice faint over the comms, and Jaz sagged in relief. 

 

Dalton’s face set, and he grabbed onto her elbow to help her to her feet. She knew immediately she’d screwed up. Jaz took a moment to gather her weapons, opening her mouth to thank Dalton when he handed over her gun, and letting out a huff of air when he turned away before she could speak. 

 

He was furious, she could tell by the set of his shoulders as he walked stiffly ahead of her, and she winced. Jaz knew from experience he wouldn’t say anything until he felt calm enough to have regained his control. 

 

McG rushed to her when they came downstairs and she waved him off. 

 

“It’s not mine.”

 

“Jesus, Jaz,” he muttered, stepping aside so she could crouch beside Amir.

 

“You okay?” she asked. He nodded with a grimace before looking up at her.    

 

“Jaz, what was that?” Amir asked quietly. Jaz shook her head. She couldn’t keep her voice steady enough to answer. 

 

“Compound is cleared, let’s head out,” Dalton cut in.

 

All eyes went to Jaz before the team scrambled to obey Dalton’s orders. McG shot her a sympathetic glance, but hurried ahead so as not to incur Dalton’s wrath. 

* * *

 

 

Dalton flipped open the sat phone and dialed the team back in D.C. 

 

“Compound has been cleared. Looks like they stripped it of any intel. Any leads on a secondary compound?” 

 

“We’ve got some possibles. I can get you a solid answer by 1800 hours,” Noah said. 

 

“I’m gonna need a day or two,” Dalton replied. “My team took some injuries.” 

 

“Is everyone okay?” Patricia asked.

 

“Yeah, Amir took three to the vest, and he’s gonna need a day of rest. I don’t want to be down a man if we need to clear a larger compound.” 

 

Had the fury not been burning so hotly within him, Dalton would have been amused at how the team scattered in front of him when he stalked to the vehicle. There was a slight shuffling as they all tried to squeeze into the backseat, but eventually Jason slid in beside him. 

 

It only took one glance back at Jaz, blood staining her chest, to have the anger throttle back to the surface. He knew hidden underneath that rage was the icy cold fear of almost losing her. 

 

In his mind he was back in Tehran, in those terror filled moments when he’d sat there powerless, unable to get to her, with the recording of her voice the only tether he’d had to her. 

 

Here too, he’d been powerless. It had felt like he’d been sludging through mud as he’d run after her. His feet couldn’t move fast enough. There had been gunfire, and she’d cried out in pain. Time had slowed, and in it, he’d lost her a thousand different ways. He couldn’t scrub the image of Jaz, bloodied and sprawled on the floor, from his mind. 

 

* * *

 

Jaz risked a glance at Dalton and almost wished she hadn’t. Despite his calm relay to Patricia, he was still pissed. She slid into the backseat with McG and Amir and decided to save her apology for later. 

 

The ride back to the airbase was tense, even when McG and Amir tried breaking the ice with their usual banter. Jaz frowned at the back of Dalton’s head. It wasn’t usual for him to stay angry for long. 

 

He kept his team in line when it was needed, but then it was back to business as usual. She knew she’d disobeyed a direct order, and despite the latitude often granted to them as a unit, military rule still held true when they were on mission. 

 

They reached the base and Jaz expected Dalton to keep her back, but he walked straight into the quonset hut without a word to her. She stood outside as McG helped Amir heft his weapons out of the truck and stared after Dalton. Amir laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he passed.

 

“He’ll calm down soon enough. It shook him seeing you like that,” Amir said, wincing a little as he cradled his ribs. 

 

“I’ve got some tiger balm that will do wonders for those ribs,” she said, helping Amir ease his tactical vest off. The three bullets in his vest caught her eye and she stared at them. 

 

“I’m not planning on dying anytime soon,” Amir said, and when he met her eyes she knew he understood why she’d run after those men. 

 

Dalton stood with bags of ice ready inside, and he helped Amir to a chair.

 

“Might help a bit with the pain,” Dalton said, his eyes traveling over Amir as McG hovered, a crease of worry on his brow. 

 

Jaz waited until Dalton stepped away from Amir before approaching him. 

 

“Top?”

 

He gestured for her to step outside with him and she followed. 

 

“Top I’m -” He held up a hand, cutting her off. 

 

“You’re suspended from the next mission.” 

 

All thought of an apology evaporated. 

 

“I’m  _ what _ ?” 

 

He merely looked at her. 

 

“That’s bull!” 

 

Dalton stepped towards her and she was too consumed with her own fury to notice his eyes darken in anger. 

 

“What’s  _ bull _ is you directly disobeying orders twice today, and acting recklessly under fire. I told you to stand down. You’re not running a one man show here Jaz!” 

 

“I was pursuing a target, and I handled it! They went after Amir!” She yelled, blood pumping furiously as temper held her in its full grip.

 

Years of training had instilled a sense of discipline that would usually have kept her in line, but the tumult of emotions bursting through the surface destroyed that control. 

 

“You do not, ever, go off alone like that. You weren’t thinking! You almost took a bullet to the head!”    
  


Jaz opened her mouth to retort, but Dalton’s words sank through the haze of her anger and she fell silent. She saw, with sudden clarity, that fear had clouded her judgement and had made her act recklessly. The thought of any one of them coming after her because of her own error in judgement hit too close to home. Jaz stared at a spot past his shoulder as anger left her, replaced by a heavy ball of guilt. 

 

“Dismissed,” Dalton said quietly, and she turned without a word to head to her rack. 

* * *

 

Dalton stared at her retreating form. Anger still pulsed in his veins, but guilt was beginning to creep in. He knew he’d lost his temper, but then he’d about lost his head when Jaz had run headfirst into danger. It was too soon after they’d almost lost her in Tehran, and much too soon after he thought they’d lost Amir. 

 

Dalton headed back into the quonset hut and knew immediately the team had heard him and Jaz yelling, by the awkward start of conversation as soon as he stepped into view. Amir met his eyes and Dalton walked towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

 

“Don’t scare me like that again, man.” 

 

Amir grimaced as he shifted the bag of ice over his ribcage. 

 

“I don’t intend to.” He waited a beat and glanced towards the strip door. “Everything okay between you two?” he asked quietly, as McG and Jason headed off to the showers. 

 

“We’ll straighten it out,” Dalton said wearily. “Listen, I gotta head out for a bit. Let me know if you need anything.” 

 

Amir waved him away and Dalton headed towards the truck outside. 

 

He drove because sitting still in this moment wasn’t an option. Memories assaulted him, and in them he was back in Tehran. 

 

_ Jaz had never felt as fragile to him as she had when he’d pulled her out of that van. Now, in the relative safety of the car, his arm was locked around her and he couldn’t seem to pry it loose. McG was taking her vitals, and Dalton knew he would wait until they were on steadier ground to check her injuries more thoroughly. Dalton felt Jaz’s body shiver against his.  _

 

_ The adrenaline had to be thundering through her system still, and he knew from experience that while the treatment would provide the kick needed to escape immediate danger, it had the unfortunate effect of amping up every other response.  _

 

_ “I’ve got you, you’re safe,” he murmured, pulling her tighter against his chest.  _

 

_ Her head drooped to his shoulder and he felt the trembling tension ease out of her. He couldn’t let her go. He didn’t have it in him.  _

 

_ “Top I need to get her blood pressure,” McG said gently.  _

 

_ Dalton recognized that tone. It was the same one McG used on family members or loved ones clinging to the victim in shock. Dalton pulled at the years of discipline that had trained him to make the tactical choice, but the pained sound she made when he moved her nearly shot that to hell.  _

 

_ “Be careful,” he growled, even though McG had yet to put a hand on Jaz.  _

 

_ “Hold her up for me,” McG said, and Dalton pulled Jaz’s back against his chest so McG could slip the blood pressure cuff around her arm.  _

 

_ “She’s steady,” Mcg murmured, his gaze traveling over Jaz, whose eyes had slid closed.  _

 

_ Dalton took several moments to collect the shattered pieces of himself before pressing his cheek to the side of her head. She was safe, and although the image of her in the van would never leave his mind, it was so much better than the nightmarish images his mind had conjured up when she’d been held captive. His team needed a leader, and although he feared Jaz would slip through his fingers the moment he let her go, the type of man he was wouldn’t let him forget his duty.  _

 

Dalton closed his eyes, and willed the newest image to fade. He recognized that his actions today had been borne of fear. Seemed he wasn’t over Tehran either. 

 

He was driving aimlessly when his phone rang. Preach’s name lit up on the screen of his phone and he hit decline. He was nowhere near steady enough to talk. 

The phone lit up again immediately, this time with a facetime call. Dalton knew Preach wouldn’t let up, so he pulled over and hit accept. 

 

Preach’s face filled the screen.

 

“How’s the civilian life treating you?” Dalton asked, his tone light. 

 

“What happened?” Preach asked.

 

“Well hello to you too,” Dalton muttered, not bothering to force a smile. 

 

“I just talked to McG. From what I could gather Amir’s sitting there with some nasty bruises, and Jaz is nowhere to be found. And now I’m talking to you, and you look like hell, so what happened?” 

 

“I suspended Jaz from our next mission.” 

 

Preach raised an eyebrow, but waited for him to continue. 

 

“I’m not so sure I made the right move.” Dalton said finally, running a hand over his hair. 

 

“What makes you think that?” Preach asked.

 

“Because I was pissed, and I never give out punishments when I’m pissed.”  

 

“I know you Adam, you don’t just fly off the handle. What happened?” 

 

Dalton stared stonily out the window. “She ran off after four tangos without backup and nearly got herself killed in the process. I don’t get to her until she takes the last one down and she’s on the floor covered in blood and-” Dalton clenched his jaw and looked at the floor of the humvee. “Amir had been hit, and I thought- well, it wasn’t her blood,” he finished. 

Preach seemed to piece together the meaning behind Dalton’s fractured words.

 

“You thought she’d been taken down, moments after you thought you lost Amir. Seems like getting pissed is a natural response to that.” 

 

Dalton shook his head. His anger wasn’t something that should be let out, he knew how tightly it was wound to his sense of control. 

 

“What happened after you suspended her?” 

 

Dalton sighed, relaying the argument, and paused at Preach’s disapproving noise. 

 

“What?” he asked. 

 

“I can’t imagine Jaz took that very well.” 

 

Dalton swallowed, seeing in his mind the way her eyes had widened at his words. 

 

“I was a little harsh, I shouldn’t have told her she wasn’t thinking. Or suspended her.” 

 

“No Adam. You know Jaz, she’s not one to get her feelings hurt. She’s probably feeling incredibly guilty about what happened, and you coming down on her didn’t help that,” Preach said patiently.

 

“It wasn’t right,” Dalton admitted. 

 

“You and Jaz are very similar in that way, feeling guilty about things that aren’t necessarily under your control” Preach continued. 

 

Adam frowned, and the realization of what he’d done hit him like a punch to the gut. Hadn’t he recognized the guilt she’d felt when he’d found her in the kitchen alone, her face a tortured mask, and sweat still coating her skin from the nightmare? He’d blundered right through a half-thought out punishment and lost his temper, all the while forgetting everything she’d shared with him. 

 

“Adam” Preach prompted, as Dalton ran a hand through his beard. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, but tell Jaz what she needs to hear. Because you’re the person she needs to hear it from.” 

 

Adam nodded, knowing Preach was right. 

 

“You know why you lost it like that right?” Preach murmured.

 

Adam expected Preach to mention the temper he kept under such tight control, and was surprised at his response.

 

“You never dealt with what happened in Tehran, not truly. There wasn’t time in those last few weeks.” Preach said gently. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” 

 

Dalton frowned, putting words to the guilt that had been festering in him 

 

“I took a risk in Tehran. I sent Jaz out knowing what was at stake, and I nearly lost her because I let myself be consumed by the need to balance the scales.” 

 

Preach pursed his lips, thinking. “We all took risks that day. I think every person on this team wanted vengeance, and it clouded the circumstances.” Preach stopped, his face a study in concentration. “Tehran was not your fault Adam. You been keeping that knotted up inside you this whole time?” 

 

The clench in Dalton’s jaw seemed to answer that for him. 

 

“Look, you made a decision, and it was a well thought out decision. You and I both know the best set of plans rarely survives first enemy contact.”

 

There was a long moment of silence as Dalton processed his words. Guilt and regret warred within him as he weighed the consequences of his decisions. 

 

Finally, he let out a long breath and leaned back in the driver’s seat. “Makes a lot of damn sense when you put it that way”. 

 

It didn’t erase the guilt, not completely, but he felt himself working through it. 

 

Preach shrugged. “What can I say, I’m good”

 

Dalton smirked. “Yeah, yeah okay.” He paused, knowing what he needed to do, and glanced at Preach’s image. “Thank you” he said. 

 

“Anytime you need to talk,” Preach replied.

 

* * *

 

  
  


He’d known he’d find her here, in the field that lay scattered with rock outcroppings. She’d told him once that she thought it was kind of nice, how the place would become sprinkled with flowers after the rains. 

 

She was upset. He could see it in the way the tension radiated from her. Jaz didn’t turn as he approached, and he knew it was not because she didn’t hear him. 

  
  


“Jaz.” He waited to see if she would acknowledge him. He wouldn’t take a step further until she let him. 

 

Jaz stood for a moment more before glancing back at him, and he took the opportunity. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, stepping up beside her and taking in the dry landscape. 

Jaz looked up at him and he could see the trace of temper in her expression. “It’s over now, there’s nothing left to say.” 

 

Dalton sighed. “No, there’s plenty to say.” 

 

“If I hadn’t gone after them they would have found a way to flank you. Amir was vulnerable where he was. You all were. I did what I thought was right,” Jaz said vehemently. 

 

He could see that things would quickly heat up again, so he bit back on his response and tried to ease the tension. 

 

“I get why you made the move, I do. It shook me hearing Amir go down too.” 

 

A hint of vulnerability flashed in her eyes, and he put a hand on her shoulder because he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out.

 

“Look,” he stepped forward slightly so he could look at her. “I wasn’t angry because you made a mistake Jaz. I was angry because you acted like your life was so simple to throw away, like you don’t matter.”

 

She was staring at the ground and he had a sneaking suspicion that the thought of failing her team was drowning out the idea that her life mattered too.

 

He moved on, knowing he too had once been in that place, and it wasn’t something that was instantly accepted.  

 

“I was wrong to suspend you today.”

 

Jaz shifted guiltily. “I deserved it.”    
  


“People make mistakes. I think I made that obvious enough today.” 

 

Her eyes flashed up to his, dark and haunted. 

 

He dropped his hand from her shoulder, and searched  for words he could say to soothe that look in her eyes, but he couldn’t find them. Instinct told him that words weren’t what she needed anyway.  

 

Dalton reached for one of the purple tipped flowers sprouting from a crevice in the rocks. They reminded him of her, blooming here in the dry dusty earth despite it all. 

 

“You know there’s a Greek myth about these, the windflower.” 

 

Jaz smiled. 

 

“Of course you know it.” 

 

He handed her the flower and she took it between her fingers, twirling the stem so the petals blurred into a purple sphere. 

 

“It’s the result of Aphrodite’s love for Adonis,” he started.

 

“Oh, it’s actually a happy one?” 

 

Dalton winced, “ _ Well... _ ” 

 

Jaz grinned. 

 

“Basically, Aphrodite’s ex-lover Ares killed Adonis by turning himself into a boar and goring him. Aphrodite tries to save Adonis by pouring nectar into his wounds, except it’s too late. And so, as she carries him out the mixture of blood and nectar dropping to the ground turns into the windflowers,” he explained. 

 

“Wait isn’t he the god of war? Why didn’t he just stab him with a spear?” Jaz asked. 

 

“It’s a myth, they don’t always make sense.” 

 

The quirk on her lip let him know she’d made the comment with the full knowledge it would annoy him. He smiled at that, watching the rays of light paint the desert sand. 

 

“It’s amazing huh, how something beautiful can grow out of all this,” he murmured. 

 

“Makes me think of Preach. He’d say something like that. Life always finds a way for beauty to emerge,” Jaz said, a soft smile on her face. 

 

“Look at us, so poetic. Preach would be proud.” 

 

“You miss him,” she said, her eyes soft and sympathetic on his.  

 

Dalton sighed. “Yeah,” he said simply.

 

The breeze tossed the soft fragrance of flowers over them, and for just a moment they were separate from the gritty violence of the day. 

 

It reminded him of the long sleepless nights on the couch he’d spent tortured by his own inner demons, and how her presence had been a balm to his own trouble. And how, when he had been in the midst of that wretched turmoil, there had been nothing he’d wanted more than to hold onto her and feel her arms slip around him as they had outside the hospital. 

 

Perhaps because the longing returned, the words slipped so easily from his lips. 

 

“I care about you Jaz, and the thought of losing you,” --he shook his head-- “it makes me crazy.” 

 

She looked up at him, eyes wide and just a little hesitant. 

 

His admission hung between them.

 

* * *

 

 

Jaz stared at Dalton. Something inside of her was shifting, even if she didn’t know what it meant. 

 

Words had never meant a lot to her. When you spent a childhood having verbal daggers thrust into your heart you learn to block them out. It was a defense mechanism, but with Dalton, it was different. His words slipped in between the cracks and took root there. The possibility of them bloomed with the same tremulous hope as the defiant desert flowers. 

 

Something unreadable flitted across his face, and was gone. 

 

“See you at dinner?” he asked. 

 

“See you at dinner,” Jaz confirmed, smiling as he turned to head back. 

 

She curled her fingers lightly around the flower, cradling the fragile promise it contained, and brushed the petals between her fingers as she watched Dalton walk off. 

 

He chipped away the pieces of her shield, but she found that inside, there wasn’t a cold emptiness as she’d thought, but vibrant life just begging for the sun. 

 

Jaz remained in the field for a bit longer before eventually making her way back to the Quonset hut. 

 

In her room, she tucked the bloom in between the pages of one of the Harry Potter novels McG had forced on her, not particularly sure why she felt the need to preserve it. Her eyes landed on the tan shirt she’d kept among her things, and traveled back to the book. 

 

Fabric that still held the slightest scent of him, and a flower that reminded her he cared. These were the pieces of him that she could have. They would have to be enough. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone misses Preach, including me. He'll be back very soon.   
> Let me know what you think! Feedback warms the soul. XD


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